


Wings of Salvation

by Poljupci



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Care of Magical Creatures, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, Dragons, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Illegal Activities, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19277863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poljupci/pseuds/Poljupci
Summary: After the death of his mother, Draco is left with a summerhouse he hasn’t visited since his childhood and having signed every piece of paperwork his solicitor put before him, he sets out to visit the place that holds his happiest memories.Upon arrival, he’s met with a surprise that will change the course of his life for better or for worse. An injured Hebridean Black is sleeping in front of the door and with hopes of a new adventure, he decides to help the dragon, naming her Salus and owling his former best friend, Harry Potter to come and help him one last time.Through foggy days and wine-filled evenings, with friends and a small muggle town on their side, they spend their time rediscovering friendship, building love and learning what it truly means to be free.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, I would just like to thank the wonderful people that helped me write this piece, whether it was through encouragement, beta-ing or just being their awesome selves. Firstly, thank you, Jenny, for being the best critic I could possibly find - your comments were hilarious and honest and every single one of them helped me push through when I lost motivation - if it weren't for you, this fic wouldn't exist. Then, thank you, Lou, for being exceptionally excited for every little sneak-peak I sent your way - your enthusiasm was very much contagious and always lifted my spirits when they needed some lifting. And finally, thank you to Gabi, Cel and Lucy for helping me choose the topic that best fitted my ideas, being there when it was hard or boring, and for just being such great friends even when you don't realise.

_My dearest Pansy,_

_you can only imagine how happy I am that French life still treats you kindly, even though that means that I now owe Blaise that set of Boissieu soaps since you've not only reached your standards in under a year, you've surpassed them. I can't say I'm surprised but I must admit that I selfishly hoped you'd come back as miserable as ever, if only because you missed me._

_Olivier sounds like a perfect jerk for you if I may say so. I'll make sure to start searching for a new pair of dress robes in three to six months (please, inform me if your usual relationship dynamics changed and you are in need of a Best Man sooner than July)._

_Regarding your question, I've got it all under control if you must know. Hawkins and I just settled the last bits of paperwork and with that, all of my mother's belongings are now mine. As a matter of fact, I'm going on a little tour of our estates later today (which, as you know, might be very interesting but should take up a significant amount of time) starting with that summer house we used to go to when we were kids, remember?_

_We would go horse riding through the meadow that surrounded it..._

_I haven't been there for at least three decades and I won't be surprised if I find a pile of bricks and wood instead of a house._

_But still... I have nothing to lose, right?_

_Well, I'll tell you how it went later this week. Tell me when you receive your birthday gift - it's strangely appropriate considering your current relationship status._

_Also, even though it sounds cheesy and totally Crucio-worthy, please make sure to take care of yourself, if not for yourself, then for me. Can't afford to lose you too, Parkinson..._

_Truly yours, Draco_

The letter was comfortably settled in an off-white envelope sealed with lilac wax, smelling faintly of roses just as his letters always had been. Ever since Pansy had moved they've exchanged letters in the most elegant of fashions, but not for the reasons onlookers and passers-by must have thought. It wasn't elegance that encouraged Draco Malfoy to include a leaf of ivy in every single of his letters but the pure fact of keeping each other on the level they once used to be, even if only with their letters, which was the only thing that kept them from going absolutely insane.

Truth be told, the world had been diluted to a greyish sludge ever since the Second Wizarding War had ended, leaving the country in a blur of rainy days, strained, gala-filled evenings, and handfuls of precise and overreactive precautions. It was exactly that caution that now separated the witches and wizards by means of their past actions where they once used to be separated by the purity of their blood. The distinction between the wizard born and the muggle born was a taboo that rarely anyone dared to touch. Instead, they sought their difference in the past - you were either a war hero or a coward.

It was not hard to place Draco on the scale, not hard at all, but after the lengthy process of scale-managing, Draco managed to find a perfect little spot of solitude, a hiding place unlike any other - the Malfoy summer house which no one's stepped into since Draco was seven.

It was in the middle of nowhere, old and surprisingly casual. With its white facade and the resemblance to what muggles call their homes, it was as far from the Malfoys' usual lavishness as he could get. A few hundred galleons, endless hours of his mornings spent in dusty solicitor offices and no less than eleven paper signings later, the house was officially his and no trace of his father's ownership was left.

It was Thursday and after he had finally sent the shrunken letter to France with Parkinson's beautiful eagle owl Nether, he pulled his worn coat over his shoulders, wrapped a scarf around his neck because Februaries were particularly chilly so far up north, took a deep breath and apparated to what he hoped would become his sanctuary.

The wind was pulling at his sleeves, twirling with his scarf, unravelling it and sending it flying up, up, up towards the clouds. A simple Accio did the trick and once Draco got a hold of his scarf again he dared to look up and saw the house after decades of absence.

Strangely enough, it wasn't the house that made Draco's breath hitch, it wasn't the cold or the wind that made him almost shiver in his clothes, and no usual sort of appearance caught him off-guard on such a level, it took all of the courage in his cowardly heart not to just disapparate and never come back.

There, lying carelessly, in the soft grass filled with dew, not nearly far enough from Draco's summer house, almost bigger than the building itself but smaller than any educated wizard would've guessed, was a dragon.

Its black scales were almost glowing in the muted sun of the late afternoon, making it seem as if a patch of sky remained in the darkest of hours covered in nothing but moonlight. One of its wings was spread across the grass while the other curled comfortably around the dragon's sleeping form - this was very peculiar even to Draco who despite his name knew very little about dragons - and the puffs of smoke that would appear with every exhale of the sleeping dragon were surprisingly threateningly looking.

Draco debated what to do and even though it shouldn't be a hard decision at all he found himself on the edge of a confusing dilemma - he could say goodbye to his new home and come back some other time when his life wasn't endangered by a mighty beast or he could suit his curiosity and go nearer to check out why the dragon was lying in such an unusual position - safety or knowledge that was the question. The dragon was snoring and while Draco weighed the pros and cons of befriending a dragon that had chosen to sleep on his lawn, the dragon shifted and as its left, not curled wing moved for barely a couple of inches the dragon roared and moaned in pain which as a consequence decided what Draco's next couple of actions would be.

Never tickle a sleeping dragon, the Hogwarts motto said, but what the saying didn't take into consideration was the possibility that the dragon might be injured or in pain or in some other state of suffering. Perhaps Draco's younger self would have easily dismissed a hurt creature, but after becoming familiar with helplessness and pain he knew that he couldn't just leave despite the risks he would have to face if he wanted to help the poor animal.

His footsteps were light as he slowly and carefully walked towards the dragon, his body wobbling, nearly making him fall almost every time he shifted his weight. Sooner than he would've liked he was less than three feet away and not only did the dragon look significantly bigger, it also looked way more troubled. It seemed to be shaking just slightly and its snores were vibrating through the ground under Draco's feet. While the dragon was sleeping he used the opportunity to cast some of the basic diagnostic spells which Draco had learned during his healer studies before he inevitably dropped out. The spells weren't really made for creatures, let alone dragons, and although the information which they managed to gather was scarce, Draco was satisfied with the result which showed him that indeed, the dragon's wing was injured but it was nothing that couldn't be healed with a bit of patience and care. It also showed him that this beautiful creature before him was around eight years old and female.

Just knowing this, Draco felt something soften inside him, the fear he'd once felt almost completely vanished and he found himself gently stroking the dragon's neck, his fingers gliding over the smooth, curved scales that covered her body.

"What will I do with you?", Draco murmured to no one but himself and the wind that was still tugging at his coat and his scarf. To be quite frank, he had no idea how to get rid of a dragon even if he wanted to, but after all Draco's wasn't some heartless monster. He realized that from the very first step he'd made towards the dragon, his decision about helping her and even keeping her as his friend and his companion was made, firm and unchangeable. That didn't mean he knew how to take care for a dragon, but it meant that even though he himself had been left alone or thrown away when he was hurt, even though he always used to run away from potential problems, he was now ready to face the truth, the reality of the world.

He was ready to show his dragon if no one else that he could be kind and that perhaps his running was over. He wondered if he would manage to save her wing, if she would like him, if he would end up in jail for having a dragon in his possession but most of all, he wondered whether by taking care of her he could also take care of himself.

He hoped that by helping this creature that was related to him only by her sleeping location, he would finally come to accept the lonely, scared person he once used to be and the lonely, a tad bit less scared, but optimistic person he hoped to become. He traced the bumps that grew larger as he came nearer to the dragon's wings as he wondered if helping her will save him from this pit of self-pity and helplessness he had slowly been falling into over the last couple of months.

Hope dies last, he reminded himself and whispered the name of his salvation, just as his fingers reached the curve above the dragon's wing, his voice carried by the clouds that fell lower and lower, intertwining with the grey, translucent grass of early February: "Salus."

The world repeated the word in every whiff of wind, in every bow of overgrowing weeds, and as Draco stood there in the breeze with the grey, overcast sky hanging over his head like his past, his grief and his fear over his life, there was a small hint of upcoming rain in the air.

His shoulders dropped, relaxed and his eyes closed as he took a breath, Salus stirring under his touch and before he realised he had moved, his wand was shooting twirling strings of light around Salus' head, calming her, telling her that she's safe. He hugged her, careful not to touch her injured limb. He would have to find some salve to numb the pain, to cool the burning over the swollen joint.

He set to work, mindlessly summoning anything and everything with any healing properties that could be found in this house and whispering to his new friend, soothing her pain with a cooling spell. There were dozens of bottles scattered around in the grass once he was finished, most of them either empty or dried out but he had the luck of finding a stinky container of goopy, dark brown creme which had a numbing effect and reduced swollenness. He checked for broken bones both with his wand and his fingers, gliding them across the sensitive area and even though he managed to confirm that everything was still in the right place, he decided too wrap and immobilise the wing, or at least the painful part of it, as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

When he fastened the last set of charmed bandages the moon was already blurry behind layers of clouds and the light was nearly all gone. A soft mist had settled around his ankles and Salus was comfortably and contently snoring under his care. Draco cast a quick shield and umbrella charm, making sure they were truly durable and would be able to survive a rough night or two, and smiled when he finished his work.

He started gathering all the empty bottles, all the loose pieces of bandages and wrappings, all the tiny things that had come to cover the ground over the period of the afternoon. After all the equipment had been gathered and the pile of things in his hands was so big it would be as wobbly as his great-aunt's incisors if it weren't for the skilful charms he'd learned back in Hogwarts after late-night study sessions which required him to borrow almost a dozen books at a time, he headed for the house.

The air was dusty and stale when he murmured for the doors to open and for a moment or two, Draco hesitated. He thought of the comfortable, little flat he'd sold last week and the spacious, airy rooms of the Manor which was not his, but no matter how much he tried to force his heart to long for windows twice as tall as himself and cushions which made you wish morning never came, his thoughts inevitably always came rushing back to the sleeping creature on his lawn and his chance for a new life.

There was a dragon out there in need of his help and if Draco wanted to save his life from ruin then he had to save another life to pay for the mess which he'd already caused in his youth.

And yes, Draco was still relatively young but as he sat on a creaking couch in front of a starting fire in the hearth, he felt as old as the house itself. He watched the flames grow and lick the bricks of the fireplace, his thoughts whirling with fire and rain and pain and dragons.

He was a dragon who needed saving and who had found a dragon who needed to be saved.

In the dusty haze of that evening, with the fire crackling in the air almost like magic, and barely audible thunder rolling somewhere in the distance, Draco grinned at what appeared to him to be a cosmic joke: "Just go and save yourself, you fool! Save your life! Teach yourself to fly again! Soar!"

Of course, there was no one to save him but a dragon or himself and due to his particularly unusual name, the two could even become interchangeable.

He would have laughed to the universe, to the fire and to himself but exhaustion was already covering his soul, pulling him closer to sleep and although he couldn't really remember walking upstairs, as soon as his head hit the lavender-scented pillow, he fell down a rabbit hole to be swallowed by a whirlpool of bright, hopeful dreams.

**~o~**

As the morning crept through the dirty windows of Draco's bedroom he found himself tossing and turning, wishing for the sleep to overcome him again and again just so he would not have to face the light of day which filled his chest with an overwhelming worry. He was in that drowsy, diluted state between consciousness and slumber when it happened, when he heard it.

A scream, a roar, a cry for help.

The sounds continued to roll over the meadow, screams fading, shouts bouncing off the walls of Draco's house and the roaring coming and going in waves. He jumped from his bed, not caring about the bedding that spilt over the floor. He carelessly pulled on the first coat he found laying around, charming his shoes to tie their laces themselves and ran out of the house, following the fading voices of his unannounced visitors.

Salus was still roaring, although not as loud as before. Her groaning became more of a warning not to approach again than a threat that will soon be executed.

There was no wind when he burst outside and Salus eyed him suspiciously but when he slowly approached her with an outstretched hand she calmed down, letting him pet her. He noticed the ripped bandages and made a mental note to check on the injury but first, he had to find the people who upset his dragon.

He had to find them and Obliviate them before he would end up in front of the Wizengamot with Salus damned to become nothing more than someone's dragonhide boots.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, ignoring the short breath, the pain in his calves and the strain in his muscles that came from years of inactivity. He ran and stumbled over the patches of grass and scattered rocks, making his way to the city, the only way forward and with nothing but a subtle hint of an overgrown pathway under his feet.

He was on the verge of breaking down when his shoes hit an uneven layer of pavement - he finally found the road. It wasn't hard to find his way from there since the town was nothing more than a post office, a pub and a department store surrounded by mismatched houses whose aesthetics did not serve as a pleasure to the eye but rather stepped aside to make space for comfort.

He let his body fall into the natural position of a man who just ran half a mile in dress shoes, pyjamas and a tattered coat with holes in its pockets. His hair was falling into his eyes, his chest was heavy and every breath felt like a new spoonful of sand sliding down his throat. He closed his eyes and let the cold of the morning overwhelm him until he could breathe semi-normally again.

Once straightening his posture didn't hurt any of his body parts anymore, he grabbed his wand from one of the inside pockets of his coat, grateful that he actually remembered to bring it and began swirling it around, hoping to any deity that still cared enough to listen that no one was peering out of their windows at a man who was waving a stick over his body like a nutcase.

Once his coat got working pockets and fitting sleeves again, his shoes were tied neatly and his pyjamas were replaced by a classy pair of black trousers and a white shirt so light Draco was bound to freeze if he continued to stand there on the edge of the street for any amount of time, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to fix his hair, his posture and his story.

If he was going to find those rude people who had dared to trespass onto his property, he would have to have at least half of a story of what the hell was that monster on his lawn. He wondered how long it would be before he was in those handy charmed handcuffs and then he let himself hope that those muggles were too horrified to say anything or at least that none of Draco's latest endeavours had gotten to the wizarding part of the public yet. He hoped, like the fool he once used to be, that he had the time to both scold the muggles and flee the country with a technically smuggled dragon.

The hope lingered on the edges of his thoughts as he passed the street, walking seemingly confident towards the pub. It seemed like the most likely place for traumatised people to go except their homes and even if Draco didn't find anyone significant sobbing on the counter, he would at least be able to get himself a drink that would pick up his spirits after such a rough start to the day.

The doors creaked when he opened them and as soon as he stepped into the bar the air got dense, all the previously heated voices dropped to silence and all the heads in the room were turned to him. There was a clock on the wall that was counting down the seconds until the inevitable explosion of voices and stares and glares but with every tick of the clock hand, time seemed to get slower and slower and slower until it crawled over the beer-stained tables like stale, thick honey.

It was slowing down rapidly and the tension in the room could be cut with a knife when a girl with frizzy blonde hair and panic in her eyes jumped onto her chair and yelled "It's him!". Suddenly, the clock was moving faster and faster and the voices mixed to a point where the only thing Draco could hear was a confusing buzz of frightened people.

He felt strong hands on his shoulders and before he could turn or shake them off he was hauled towards the bar, people moving aside so his body could easily glide through a mass of customers until it was just him staring at the little accuser of a girl and the whole crowd drilling holes in his body with their stares.

Draco would say it was the first time he'd hated that he was in the centre of attention but considering the amount of uncomfortable and embarrassing situations he'd had to sit through in the past twenty years, it would be a blatant lie. From formal dinners with the one and only Dark Lord, his trial and passive-aggressively spontaneous oral examinations back at uni to parties to which he was invited only because of politeness, Hogwarts graduates of 2000 gatherings and now this, it was safe to say that Draco had grown incredibly fond of being invisible when possible.

It was only when his little bubble of self-confidence burst and all the stares and the whispers started itching on his skin, that he realised how crowded the bar had really been with the air heavy and stale, irritating your lungs, and the light so low your eyes hurt if you tried to focus on a single person or object for too long, and the dust and the smoke squeezing them all together and making Draco feel very dizzy.

For a moment he was certain that it was all by design so some innocent passer-by would be lured to some kind of pagan festival - everything around him looked like a trap for catching a new sacrificial "lamb".

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath which he instantly regretted - someone was smoking to his left and having a cloud of cigarette smoke filling your nostrils unexpectedly really couldn't be pleasant. After he ignored all the mocking sniggers because he just coughed his lungs out, he stood up straighter and started speaking, his first words being the worst thing he could say but also, as he would later discover, were quite funny from the outsider's perspective.

"Whatever any of you saw," he started, as slow as was humanly possible, feeling as if he was their prey, " it wasn't a dragon."

"Then what was that?!", the girl on the chair attacked him immediately. She appeared to be the head of the group and the one who usually dealt with outsiders. She glanced over the crowd as she asked on: "A very big lizard? A crocodile perhaps? Maybe it was only a snake that'd eaten an elephant? Oh imagine, he's a time traveller and it's actually a very fat, very lazy pterodactyl!"

Everyone laughed and Draco simply wanted to sink into his chair, or even simpler, disapparate. But despite his embarrassment, helplessness and fear of the inevitable consequences he stayed there, his head up high and his passive look turning into a glare in seconds. Before he could answer, she continued. "And what are you even doing with it? Are those the newest trendy pets? Or do you just have a very exotic diet?"

He didn't let her continue this time and as soon as she stopped to have a laugh and take a breath he started talking.

"It's actually a crossbreed and you fools would've realized it if you knew anything about anything at all. Everyone knows that crossbreeding lizards and alligators lead to fantastic results!" He surprised everyone but mostly himself with the nonsense that was spilling from his mouth once he started speaking. Of course, he'd always known how to lie but lying to muggles was something else entirely if you asked Draco Malfoy.

"And the wings?" The question came from the main girl of course and before Draco could even think about the answer he was smirking at her proudly and said: "Something we borrowed from condors. And just for your information: it's mine and you can't have it unless you pay your family's worth in gold. That's what I'm doing - I'm waiting for a buyer who unfortunately decided to choose this godforsaken place to meet!"

There was a moment of silence where Draco genuinely thought she would admit defeat and he would be able to go on his merry way. But just when he began to congratulate himself everyone burst out laughing and the loudest of them all was her. She ran closer and laughed into his face, telling him something about biology and science and his education - or the lack of it, actually - between wheezes of laughter and whipping of her tears.

This circus went on for a while and Draco was certain that the majority of the townsfolk was already forcibly laughing to keep the embarrassment on the high, but the boiling point of Draco's anger was the exact moment when some stinky, drunk dude decided to just go and ruffle his hair while laughing about how dumb Draco was.

"Shut up!!", he yelled over the group and his casual use of Sonorus didn't go unnoticed in the pub - instead of mocking faces he was now surrounded with looks of slight worry. "Listen to me," he started, lowering the charm but keeping it on so every single person in the room would hear him nice and clear, "listen to me very carefully."

The pauses between his words were punctuated with ice-cold, dead silences which stung everyone who dared to move.

"That creature you saw in my yard, that creature which you mocked so carelessly, that creature that is so loyal to me it would kill my siblings if they dared to stab me in my back - ", he stopped, glancing around just so everyone was on the edge of screaming from the tension that he managed to build in seconds, " - is a dragon."

"It is my dragon and if anyone even thinks of coming closer than a mile of it ever again, I will personally arrange that they become her breakfast. After all, Hebridean Blacks have a taste for humans."

And with that, he fixed his hair, shoot one last glance at the curly-haired girl who looked nowhere near as triumphant as mere minutes ago and left the bar, leaving everyone in chilly, stunned silence.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Morning found Draco groggy with dew across his windows and scattered papers all over his floor. There were blotches of ink dried into the wooden table in his dining room, broken quills hanging from the edges of chairs and random surfaces where they'd been thrown the night before, and there in the middle of this mess, so neat they appeared to have no connection to the disorder around them, were four, enveloped letters each of them representing a tiny piece of his mood transformation.

The smallest one, with barely a couple of sentences, was his 'can't-lose-my-job' freak-out and apology to the owner of the bookshop he worked in, Mrs Clark. The letter was there to inform her that Draco is currently head over heels in some family business that really can't wait and that he will be back as soon as he has dealt with the matter.

The one on top of it was an overly formal letter that included a failed attempt of a casual check up with Charles Weasley with a small note, in the end, asking for tips on dragon-care. He and Draco had met a couple of times before at different balls and galas to which Charlie was dragged by his heroic brother, and Draco by the pure sense of guilt and redemption if he could even call it that. With both of them standing out from the perfectly composed crowd of sycophants for one reason or another, it wasn't hard for the conversation to start flowing almost naturally. They'd become great acquaintances and Draco had to admit that he wasn't regretting it one bit, even if their relationship didn't bring any benefits to the table.

The third letter was one of sheer panic and it was addressed to France. In any other circumstances, Draco would despise anyone who sent two letters in a row before getting an answer first but in this situation the sender was him and he had a dragon in his front yard so Pansy wouldn't dare to hate him even if she wanted to.

The last letter was the one responsible for the worrying amount of loose paper all over the room and the one which stole half of his night. The handwriting in it was neat and precise without a single mistake, every word thought over time and time again, every sentence perfectly crafted to have a strong, nearly stubborn voice of its own. With every detail being flawless, he took that last envelope in his hands, wrote the familiar address of the Ministry in London and two words which always caused a mixture of indescribable feelings in Draco's chest. He went to the attic and found that owl that had cost him his sleep and tied the letter to her leg. That was the priority - all of the others could wait.

Once he came back downstairs he let his body gracelessly fall into the squeaking cushions of the old sofa in the living room and closed his eyes. One might think that while in possession of something highly illegal, Draco would want to run as far away from the DMLE and maybe not send them an open letter about his new pet but he was, honestly desperate and helpless and, as it always happened in situations like these, frozen in place and time, unable to see his problem rationally and, Merlin forbids, think of a solution. Perhaps owling Harry Potter wasn't the best idea out there but it was something, progress or at least a step towards it.

Draco groaned at his own stupidity and his own inability to put some sense into his brain. He rubbed his eyes and turned onto his side so his face was buried in the fluffy fold of the sofa. Squeezed into the cushions, he let his eyes close and before he knew what was really happening, he fell asleep, finally getting some well-deserved rest.

**~o~**

The Ministry seemed like a blur as Harry rushed through it shouting excuses and joyful goodbyes, running to the apparition point and then after a second of twists and turns and fading shouts in his direction he was all alone in the middle of a cobbled street with the wind smelling like rain and the world around him as still as if it was painted on.

He didn't really know why reading Malfoy's letter pushed him out of his chair and his routine but it did. It was early in the morning and he was finishing some paperwork from the cases that happened last night - he was the Auror on duty through the night and was literally counting the seconds until his shift was over. Suddenly, breaking through the mirage of the orderly, professional atmosphere in his office, an owl flew through the door. It looked as haggard as an owl could look, worse than big old Errol in his best days, and it was carrying a hefty letter with his name written in a neat dark blue script which looked familiar but the memory of it was too faded to be fully recognisable.

He opened the letter, his eyes immediately jumping to the end and he couldn't keep his lips from quirking into a grin when he saw the elegant DM on the bottom of the page. No matter what others or even Harry's subconsciousness told him, he found Malfoy amusing and charming simply because he was so terribly different from Harry but also so weirdly similar to him.

After Draco had left the Ministry to study abroad for being a Healer, Harry had to admit he would miss their little chats in the cafeteria which had developed from purposely ignoring each other. Those couple of months of Draco's absence really showed him just how much Harry had got used to Malfoy being around and being close to him, and how this constant in his life had been giving him a strange sense of comfort and safety throughout his day to day life. So when Malfoy finally came back, having given up on his studies and found a job at the local bookshop, Harry did not only found himself reading more but also drinking more tea than ever with their daily, shared lunches spiced with conversation.

He would even dare to say that they had become friends again but then Malfoy's mother died and Harry knew damn well that Malfoy liked to deal with his grief behind closed doors. They drifted apart with only faint greetings shared between them when they ran into each other in the street.

Harry spent countless nights replaying every single one of their conversations over and over again, trying to figure out how to get their friendship back on track.

He stared at the letter, at the frantically written text disguised as the fancy lettering of a simple proposal, and at that moment a small flicker of hope bloomed in his chest that this dragon, this adventure they would undoubtedly share together might bring them closer than they have ever been before.

It wasn't a second after that before Harry gathered his coat and his scarf and smiled at Auror Peterson, rushing through the doors of his office and into something entirely out of the ordinary.

Any concerns he might have had about the legality of helping Draco with a dragon flew out of his head the moment he stood up and he doubted they would appear again until the late hours of the night when he would be trying to sleep.

He landed in a seemingly abandoned street which was narrow and none of the houses, which lined each of its sides, were built in a straight line. There was a pub and a post office and there in the distance, Harry could see a faint shadow of a store sign. The wind caught in his coat and his scarf and it itched on his skin - the cold was getting to him. What was in London the beginning of spring was here something far from it - Harry found himself in the midst of what felt like the neverending beginning of February when there was no snow but the mornings were always frosted and foggy, the wind was everpresent and the air was never clear or bright or sunny.

He looked around and buried a hand into his pocket to retrieve the letter, skimming it for details. He was supposed to be a merchant, knowledgeable about dragons and very rich. He supposed he could cross the last part and after transforming his usual Auror robes into long, layered robes of orange, red and purple with countless golden specks and hanging strings of beads around his neck which made him look like Trelawney's son, he crossed the first two conditions of his identity off of his mental checklist as well.

He looked around. Years ago he might have missed the moving curtains or the hurried glances which came from nearly every window but now he noticed all of them - perhaps the town wasn't abandoned after all. Harry decided to ignore all of it and the early sense of anticipation that was crackling in the air went overlooked as well.

He looked at the letter once more and when he located the end of the street as Draco had mentioned, he started walking towards the meadow that would supposedly lead him to a dragon.

His steps were quick and sure, a look of perseverance set on his face even though his heart was pumping hard. He had to admit that this adventure scared him, but not for the usual reasons. While his 11-year-old self would have feared to face the dragon, Harry feared to face the man to whom the dragon belonged to - Draco, a dragon of an entirely different kind.

Just as his thoughts began forming into all the possible scenarios he might find once he'd crossed the meadow in front of him, and all the possible ways one can tame all sorts of dragons, his coat got caught into something, pulling him back and nearly causing him to fall down onto the broken, gravelled street which would surely do  _wonders_  to his arse. He managed to stay on his feet though and as soon as he gathered his composure, he turned around expecting to find his coat ripped on some branch or even a bar, but instead he found a worried little girl in a patchy trenchcoat.

"Well, hello the-", he started, kneeling down on one knee so he was just the same height as the girl, but her words cut him off before he could say another word.

"You mustn't go there, sir! It's too dangerous for you to go! He told us it will eat us for dinner! Don't go!" The girl spoke hurriedly and her words tripped over each other in a string of warning pleas.

"I'm sure I won't be eaten; don't worry," Harry told her, his confidence about the situation coming back with that grin on his face. He saw the confusion on the girl's face grow deeper.

"But there is a monster there, sir! There's a d-dragon!"

"Of course there's a dragon! It's waiting for me - soon, it will be mine, you know."

"But it will eat you!", the girl repeated again, in shock from the recent developments.

„Nah, it's a good dragon – she only eats the bad guys, you know," he said and winked, standing up and subtly waving his fingers over his robes so no dust or dirt was left on the fabric from kneeling on the ground.

The girl was still staring at him, but no words were sent his way in a reply. He waved at her in an awkward manner before turning and rushing towards the meadow. When he was about three hundred feet away he dared to turn around and the sight he caught a glimpse of, sent shivers down his spine - no one in their right mind would say that seeing half the town gathered on the edge of a meadow you are now walking across is something reassuring. Honestly, Harry felt like he was walking into certain death.

Once he caught sight of a dragon, it wasn't the one he was expecting. Draco Malfoy was waiting for him near a stream running across the field, away from the townsfolk's curious eyes but far enough from his house that Harry couldn't see the dragon he was expected to "buy". As he came closer, Harry could see Draco was fidgeting and the nervousness in Harry's brain seemed like nothing compared to the level of uncertainty painted all over Malfoy's features.

As soon as Harry was close enough to the blond so it wouldn't be weird, Draco started walking towards him and suddenly, in a blur of wind and robes and whisper, Draco was hugging him, clinging onto him for his dear life, saying to him with so much gratefulness: "I'm so glad that you came." And before Harry could say anything or even hug him back, Draco was several feet away from him rushing down the path Harry'd just come from, asking behind him: "Did someone follow you?"

"No, of course not," Harry murmured, shaking his head and when Draco was right next to him he let the silence stretch between them hoping he would get to hear something, anything about what Draco's been going through in the past couple of months when they'd drifted apart.

"Good," was the only thing Draco said, though. He walked past Harry as if he hadn't just hugged him like Harry was the last person on the planet, and motioned for him to follow. Harry could do nothing but oblige.

They walked in silence for a couple more minutes and Harry could feel the tension following them through the field. "Draco, how- er... How have you been?", he asked, trying to catch up to Malfoy who was always two steps ahead of him.

"I'm fine. But this whole Salus business - I don't really know anyone who would, like... come and help right away, you know..." Draco's voice was low and casual as he spoke but since Harry was now walking right next to him, he could see him fidgeting with his fingers. "I hope I didn't pull you out of something important?"

Harry caught Malfoy's eyes and for a moment it seemed like either of them was going to mention the way they'd been since October but the wind caught in their hair and they had to catch their scarfs and their robes to stay in place and nothing of importance was said. After a while, when Harry could already see the house and the dragon about a hundred feet in front of them, he grabbed Draco's wrist to stop him.

"Wha-"

"I'm happy that you asked me to come."

"I'm glad you are...", Draco frowned at him, confused at the sudden seriousness of Harry's tone.

"No, really. I missed hanging out with you and... a-and I don't know. I feel like we both needed something like this to break the glass around us, right?"

"I guess? Look, Harry, I just need you to help me figure this out because I honestly think the villagers are going to attack me at night with forks and torches - they will burn me alive if I don't intimidate them well enough."

Harry laughed at this and even though Draco appeared to be offended by him not taking him seriously, his lips couldn't help but curve into a grin.

"I'll help you alright. And Salus will help you too. We will be your knight and your dragon - here to save our damsel in distress!"

Draco shoved Potter after that comment and his steps grew faster so there was a distance between them when Draco turned to throw the one last comment before reaching the house: "Oh please, Potter. We all know you're the damsel in this relationship!"

**~o~**

The pub was fuller than ever before and although usually it only seemed as if the entire town was packed into the small, dark room, Chase Allen knew that today this was the fact. As he dragged his cleaning cloth over the spilt beer and drops of missed spirits, he glanced over the crowd crammed together in the small, crooked place of his small pub, allowing himself to smile - perhaps those two weirdos should stay a bit longer, bring friends, fill the town with gossip and speculation and a twisting murmur of suspense and amusement. With the sales of drinks and food and company jumping up due to nothing but two strangers and a whiff of an orange cloak, Allen certainly wasn't one of the complainers out there.

He didn't really like to put himself into any of the boxes the townsfolk divided themselves into - he didn't really think bringing mythical creatures was good for the town but he also didn't think some fun would do any damage; he liked to listen to conspiracies whispered in corners between swallows of alcohol but he realised that all of those tales must be bullcrap, too. He was just a simple bartender, not taking any sides, only tips and orders from the sea of nervous men, with particles of whispers coming and going through them.

People were curious, imaginative and somewhat on edge but even with all the interest and demand for answers to the countless questions thrown into the void of the pub, once the mysterious newcomers entered the establishment, every single voice was drowned in favour of tense, almost deafening silence.

Everyone exchanged looks among them, before staring at the odd pair of men who stood at the door. The taller man, the blonde, the dragon owner was wearing robes which were draped over his shoulders in colours of pale grey, an outfit that would, if it weren't for his hair and the reputation he had already built for himself in the town, make him nearly invisible to the crowd of regulars. He looked tired and cranky, sensitive to any word directed at the general direction of his being. The man next to him, the eccentric buyer, seemingly some sort of magician or a performer of magic, was in a surprisingly good mood. His face was shining with the hint of a smile and his clothes, a bit darker and dimmer than the orange tones from the day before, still had a slight glow that made him stand out from the crowd.

It was something that everyone noticed once the two of them started walking towards the bar - while the dragon owner was blending into the edges of the crowd, only recognisable by the curls of his sandy blond hair, the buyer radiated with something that almost separated him from this realm of existence.

The townsfolk weren't the only ones to notice, as Draco's eyes kept flickering towards Harry's figure. It wasn't a new thing - that invisible glow emitting from Harry - but it was something Draco had interpreted in a completely different way when he first saw it. During the time of Draco's life which had Harry in it, the glow was strictly connected to Harry's confidence in public and Draco couldn't see it as anything else. Now he thought it was both confidence and something else entirely. Harry had always been special after all and this power to stand out from the crowd was just another thing which Draco would probably never figure out completely.

The crowd parted as they walked in and what was once a cramped bar was an empty surface when they managed to reach it. The customers were pushed into each other, forming an empty circle around Draco and Harry as if they were surrounded by a glass dome which no one else but them could really enter.

"How can I help you guys?", the bartender asked without a hint of nervousness or anything that would hint the situation at hand was something out of the ordinary. Although, Draco had to admit that there was a tiny touch of amusement in his tone.

"Scotch - the best one you have. Also, neat," Draco murmured and then when the bartender frowned at him, now grinning he added a small, "Please?"

Harry snorted at that and when the man turned to him, he shook his head. "It's nine a.m.. You shouldn't serve anyone scotch, let alone serve this one scotch." The bartender nodded at that and Draco just scoffed, taking a step back away from the bar. He turned around and sneered at the crowd that moved in sloppy movements, a moment after he'd made a step. He could feel the restless night pushing into his shoulders and there was a headache forming somewhere behind his eyes. It was all too much at the moment – truly there wasn't a person alive with worse luck than him. The only thing he wanted was to check out his summer house and now he was treated like he had dragon pox and there was the looming threat of Azkaban over his head.

Having spent yesterday afternoon procrastinating anything that was remotely connected to the task at hand, Draco knew that it was time to talk. to set the rules, to figure out what they were going to do.

He needed a drink. And a booth. And if he couldn't have a drink, he would at least get a booth even if he had to hex someone's arse out of one. "I need a booth." As soon as the words echoed through the pub, there was some shuffling in the very back of the room and before you could say 'dragon' there was a solid, perfectly empty booth in the back corner. He dragged his sorry arse towards it and sat down, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

He might have actually fallen asleep, his back pressed firmly against the red cushion of the seating, if it weren't for Potter, coming to sit down, carrying two steaming cups of what was most likely tea in his hands. There was some clattering of porcelain and the muttered curse, a murmur of a spell and then, a sigh.

"Chamomile with lemon and honey and some honey biscuits," Potter told him and Draco forced himself to come back to a fully conscious state. His eyes opened and he spent a couple of seconds just staring at the man before him with his hair as ruffled as it had been in their Hogwarts days, his robes falling loosely over his broad shoulders in the most casual of manners and that smile on his lips, that damned smile that would always give Draco butterflies when they used to talk during those overly long lunch breaks in the Ministry.

There were no butterflies now, but a hint of something filled Draco's head. Perhaps it was hope that the butterflies would return to fly in his stomach every time Potter smiled at him, but for now, the only thing Draco wished could fly was his stack of problems so they would just fly away from him as soon as possible.

Draco smiled back and pulled his teacup towards him, murmuring his thanks and enjoying the sound of scraping china against the wood of the table mixing in with the slowly building sounds of the crowd, newly awakened. The cup was steaming hot and he carefully wrapped his fingers around it, sighing at the warmth spreading over his skin.

"Is it at least spiced?", he asked before bringing the cup to his lips, slowly blowing to cool the drink down. He could use his wand but there was something calming in just blowing away the steam with his own efforts.

"Nope," Harry shook his head and took his own cup. "No offence, but you look like you feel like shit - alcohol can't help with that."

"Neither can tea..." There was a shrug shared between them and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation was over but then Harry subtly flicked his fingers towards the crowded bar and the sounds became hushed, the colours of the bar blurred and now there seemed to be a very real bubble around them.

"Impressive... And wandless too... What is it?" Draco lifted his eyebrow questioningly and he could see a hint of a blush on Harry's cheeks from the praise. It was definitely something he was glad he noticed - he doubted he ever saw Potter blush before that moment. Everything about Harry seemed more relaxed, too.

"Just a thing I'd been messing around with... Do you know Muffliato?", Harry asked, uncertain whether or not Snape's makeshift spells had reached the general public or his ex-students yet. „It's just a variation on the spell... It's stronger and lasts longer and instead of buzzing, people around the bubble hear murmuring and parts of words we are saying but not enough to actually understand anything that's being said."

"Sounds incredibly useful." Draco took a sip of his tea and hummed, nodding, hoping that this will be enough confirmation that the drink was amazingly tasty. He didn't feel like telling Harry that it's probably better than scotch - those kinds of confessions would have to wait until they were on the level they almost reached months ago before his mother's sudden passing and his departure to France.

No words were exchanged for a minute and then two and then five, and with the sounds of the pub only a distant background noise, Draco enjoyed the comfort of the silence and a moment of peace with the taste of tea and honey biscuits taking all the place in his mind, leaving all the troublesome thoughts out of his system if only for a moment.

"So...", Harry whispered into the space between them. The steam warmed the air, making it soft and gentle in its twirls.

"So?", Draco said back, an echo with a different tone.

"Do you want me to contact Charlie?"

It was not the question Draco was anticipating but it wasn't a question that surprised him either. "No," he said, calmly. "I already sent him a letter asking for advice about dragon care."

"Dragon care?", Harry frowned at that, stopping his finger from the doodling movements he was doing in some spilt sugar on the table. "Don't you want to get rid of the dragon?"

"Get rid of Salus? No, never. She's mine and she's hurt - I can't just give her away."

"Then why am I here? I thought you just needed someone to contact Charlie..."

"My contact to Charlie is myself. We've been friends for years, didn't you know?" Draco paused there, taking his time with drinking his tea before finally putting his cup down and continuing. "And I don't know why you're here... For support? Brainstorming? Ideas? I didn't really think you'd come if I'm being completely honest..."

"What? Of course, I'd come, Draco!" Harry assured him and pushed away his cup. His tone was nearly offended. "I'd always come. I mean, it's you, for Merlin's sake!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're, well, you're my friend and you shouldn't be surprised that, er, that I want to help you." Harry ended the answer with a firm nod which didn't fit the hurried tone of his previous words. Still, Draco appreciated the effort and smiled at him, awkwardly.

"Trelawney's clothes make you look happier for some reason. Approachable? Better for sure," Draco commented and smirked when Harry snorted with a sigh.

"Thanks. They're very comfortable."

"Well, I imagine a potato sack would be comfortable compared to that horrendous costume they make you wear down at the DMLE," Draco chuckled and took a sip of his tea, watching Harry shrug, seemingly at a loss of words.

"It's not so bad and I guess it's worth it considering I get to be the Head Auror, you know..." There was another stretch of silence where Draco took a biscuit and snacked on it while his eyes roamed the room around them. Even though their booth was covered in complete tranquillity, the pub seemed with burst in life and activity, gossip and debates.

"Is being Head Auror worth it, though?" Draco asked, turning back to Potter.

"Worth what? The sacrifice of comfortable clothes?"

"No... The amount of effort it takes for you to be satisfied. Your comfortability, your happiness even..." Draco kept his words low and slow. The last thing he wanted was for him to appear to attack Potter. They might be friends but the boundaries were unclear - after months of barely any contact, it was hard to see the lines of the friendship as apparent as they once used to appear between them.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy? I'm happy with what I do." Harry's voice was sharper now and with the knowledge about how easy Potter can burst into an angry fit once you dare to accuse him of denying the truth of his own life, Draco felt a tinge of satisfaction knowing that talking about Harry's crappy job was currently off the menu.

"Yeah, I know," Draco said, dismissing the topic even though he knew the opposite of what Harry claimed was true. If Harry was so delighted with the position of Head Auror he surely wouldn't appear here, in the middle of nowhere at the first opportunity that came along. And also, the chances of him ditching his satisfying job for someone like Draco, no matter their former relations, was unlikely.

"I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed," Draco then continued. "I mean, you're an Auror - you should be arresting me for illegal dragon possession and not buying me tea."

"Well, even the Head Auror can have a bit of fun from time to time," Harry smirked at him mischievously and before Draco managed to criticise the bad example Potter is giving his colleges and the general public, soft coughing came from outside the bubble.

Both of them turned their heads, cautious but curious. There were several children standing next to their booth and Draco could feel the loss of magic that was surrounding them. "Hi, there," Harry greeted them – two boys and three girls – and when Draco glanced at him, he could see that Potter was smiling. Draco could only assume he'd met the girl who was leading the group before. "Surprised to see me alive?"

The girl in the front nodded and glanced somewhere behind her, possibly searching for the encouraging looks of her parents. "Everyone said the dragon would eat you."

"And I'm still here – alive and standing," Harry shrugged and when Draco raised an eyebrow at him, he added: „Well, sitting."

Draco leaned back into his seat then and took his cup. He wasn't needed in this conversation as anything but the audience. He wasn't the only one paying close attention to the interaction unfolding in front of them since the whole bar was thrumming with silence all over again and Potter was once again in the centre of attention.

"Sir, my mum says it's rude and I can't ask you but, sir, how did you stay alive with the dragon?", the girl was rocking on the soles of her feet and staring into her hands. The rest of the kids were glancing at each other, at Harry and some of the glances flew Draco's way too, but it seemed unlikely that any of them would actually speak up.

"Well, all you have to know is one simple trick," Harry said, looking around and then raising his eyebrows in a curious, conspiratorial manner. The children shared a look and when they glanced back at the rest of the pub, they put all of their attention to what Harry was telling them, small, careful smiles forming on their lips.

Draco coughed and put down his cup of tea, while his eyes followed the woman which was walking towards them, undoubtedly a concerned mother. "Good day, Mrs...-?"

"Papen. Mrs Papen," the woman replied, coldly, shooing the kids back into the crowd of townspeople. "It would be very much appreciated if you would ask your friend not to teach my child or any of our children any nonsense again."

"I think that would be manageable," Draco nodded and apologised for wasting her time. Just as the woman turned to walk away, Harry stood up from the booth and asked her to wait.

"I apologise for causing such a stir in your community. If you want, and if you feel comfortable, come to Draco's house tomorrow morning. The town's kids can pet Salus if they want. Consider it a peace offering." The woman looked at him strangely before nodding slowly, and Draco groaned. Salus was his dragon and it wasn't here for sale or exploitation.

"Anyone who wants to come can," Harry said, while Draco dragged him towards the door. Just a moment before Harry was shoved into the cold, empty street, he still managed to add: "Only two pounds for half an hour!"

Draco huffed and shoved Potter to move along. This is not going to end well, and Draco knew that fighting inside their own personal space was the best option. And really, did Harry really think Draco would let him just sell Salus out to a bunch of strangers?

He apparated them into the living room and without a second to spare he glared at Potter who was frowning back at him, confused.

"What?", Potter asked like the dumbass he was. He was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, leaning onto the chair in front of him

"You're a moron!" Draco yelled as soon as the doors slammed shut. He could nearly hear his heartbeat as the boiling rage rose up through his insides.

"Excuse me?!" The question was more offended than mad, more curious than mad.

"I excuse you for nothing! You can't just go around and sell Salus! She's injured and she's hurting and she is my dragon!" All the words Draco was throwing at Potter were said through gritted teeth and he had to admit that it was a while since he last punched someone. But for Salus, punching anyone, even Harry Potter, would be worth it.

"Are you okay?", Potter asked, tentatively and completely calm but with a frown on his face. A worried frown that made Draco even more frustrated - Potter should be worried about Salus! About himself! Not about Draco! "You seem a bit angry..." And that threw the last bits of Draco's control flying out of the window.

"A bit angry? A. Bit. Angry!??!?!?!!?" Then there was a flying pan heading for Potter's head. It almost hit him but Potter didn't work for the Aurors for the past decade and a half only to let some stupid pan hit his head. Meanwhile, Draco continued to yell quite passionately. "Potter, I asked you to help me! I didn't ask you to help me get into Azkaban sooner!"

"No one is going anywhere near Azkaban", Potter tried to assure him with his calm tone but it didn't really seem to be working. On the contrary, the moment Harry tried to take a step forward to comfort the hostile man whose behaviour was starting to really remind Harry of Draco's namesake animals, Malfoy took a small pot into his hand. "Will you please calm down?", Harry then tried to ask but flying pots can be distracting indeed.

"No! I will not calm down because all I needed was some support and some advice and someone to make my story believable and here you come, all fancy and confident and act like you're the centre of this amazing story. Well, no one is clapping!" Draco huffed there, making a disgusted face and if he wouldn't be in fear for his life, Harry would be amazed by his stunning performance. Fortunately, years of working in the DMLE taught him how to appear unbothered and he was still shaken by the situation that was apparently caused by his acts. It seemed to be the time for Harry to defend himself since Draco was just glaring, angrily at his being, most likely wishing to just kill him with some laser eyes action. Harry cleared his throat and started talking, letting some of his cool wash away partly so Draco wouldn't be provoked by a mellow response but also because he really felt that he should defend himself properly.

"I'm not acting like anything, Malfoy!", he said as a strong start. "You asked me to help! I am helping you to keep your head on your shoulders. I will bet you my entire Gringotts account that you would be murdered in your sleep if I didn't recover your reputation." Even though Harry was somewhat pleased with his answer, Draco's mocking huff ruined it all.

"Recover my ass... We'll be lucky if they don't come to burn our house with torches tomorrow! You basically invited your own executioners! Muggles hate witches, remember?! Especially when they are greedy, self-centred, attention seeking brats!" And... that's where Harry really got angry with Malfoy – he knew how namecalling felt and he'd experienced his fair share of accusations and mockery since he'd come out and well before that but never was he insulted by someone he thought had at least a grain of respect for him. He thought of Malfoy as a friend, but now...

"You're stepping on a line here. If you don't calm down immediately and tell me what the fuck it is that is making you so mad I'm leaving, Malfoy." His voice was suddenly cold and serious, without a trace of the previous amusement or curiosity.

"Oh, sure, let Saint Potter talk about feelings." Draco dragged his words to appear like mockery but Harry could see that his confidence wavered - he didn't yell as he responded and his hands were gripping the pan he was holding tighter than before.

"Talking about what's worrying you is better than throwing pots and pans at unsuspecting civilians," Harry remarked and that seemed to bring the old, temperamental Draco back. Although he yelled, his voice was still quieter than before. Perhaps he was getting tired?

"You're not a civilian! You're the one who is going to put me behind bars just so you can earn some stupid muggle money! Using my dragon!" Draco sounded like he was going to cry. He sounded desperate but Harry couldn't tell if it was frustration, bottled up feelings spilling out or pure melodrama that brought it on. Nevertheless, Harry willed himself to calm down as much as possible, unable to predict what Draco will do next... It's been so long since they talked for hours on end and now, he struggled between just leaving or risking it all by hugging his friend. They were friends. Friends weren't supposed to throw dishes at each other. Friends weren't supposed to sell out their friend's dragons.

"Okay, first of all," he started, slowly, carefully, "I told you already that no one is going to Azkaban so can you stop thinking about it that way. Secondly, money can never be stupid - I honestly thought you knew that", he chuckled but Draco was still frowning at him. "Er... thirdly, I... " Harry sighed and took his wand out. He summoned two things: a tattered chequebook which he hadn't used since he got it made, and a pen. Draco stared at him with crossed arms and as soon as Harry handed him the piece of paper, without even looking at the sum, he tore the paper up.

"No," he said seriously. "Just no."

"Yes," Harry said and wrote another check with half the price of the first one. He shoved the paper into Malfoy's hands and said, quite sternly, "I don't care what you think. It's your dragon. But it's my dragon too. Half and half - shared responsibility."

Harry didn't slam the door behind him. He closed it as if nothing had happened and left Draco to stand alone in the kitchen to wonder what exactly had happened. Draco followed Harry's path from behind the window, watching him first out of worry - that tiny bit of worry in Draco's heart that thought Harry would actually leave – and then out of something unspoken. Astonishment? Surprise? Respect? Something Draco couldn't quite name but now, as he watched Harry pet Salus and whisper murmurings to his - to their - dragon, Draco knew he'd felt it for Harry before. Before his mother had passed away, before they'd lost touch, before they had stopped being friends.

He watched as Potter tended to Salus' injured wing, changing her bandages and applying cremes and ointment to her wounds. He watched as Harry went around her body, seemingly checking for something - more injuries probably. He watched as Harry slowly dragged his hand over Salus' neck and how Salus immediately relaxed to his touch. It wasn't anything that Draco shouldn't have expected since Harry had always appeared to be good with animals but the tenderness of Harry's touch and the care which he put into a creature which he'd only just met, still surprised him since there was a part of him that was still worried that Harry'd changed in the lost time of theirs.

His thoughts came back to how calm Harry had been when Draco so foolishly lashed out at him. Draco threw kitchenware at him! Why did he throw a pan and a pot at him? Perhaps the reason was good and perhaps Draco's arguments would have made sense if only he hadn't acted like a child. He had hoped that over the years he'd grown out of his childish behaviour whenever something bothered him. He had hoped he'd lost the temper.

He wondered whether it was Harry's own fault that he got a pot and a pan thrown at his head. If Potter hadn't attempted to sell his dragon... But no. Draco knew that the fault was his own. Ever since he and Harry started to click at those lunch "dates" back when he was still working in the Ministry, Harry turned out to be a great listener and with him, Draco found comfort and a safe space. There was something about Harry that made Draco feel like he could tell him anything and likewise, he felt like Harry used to trust him enough to tell him anything. Draco was after all, beside Weasley and Granger, the first person to find out that Harry'd been questioning his sexuality. Although it might have been because Draco was one of the few openly queer people in Harry's group of friends and acquaintances but still, Harry hadn't asked his former Auror partner Hawkins for advice.

Of course, all of that changed after Draco left the Ministry to study and later deal with the departure of his mother and the chaos that followed soon after. Even though his friendship with Potter was something he cherished and one of the few things he liked in his life, his duty as a Malfoy came first and there were things to be settled not only because of his pride but also his heritage and legal issues that were brought up.

And so the months passed by and Draco shoved thoughts about Harry somewhere in the corner with all the stuff he would have to deal with 'later', but now, as he looked through the window of his summerhouse, at the man dressed as a fortune teller, he wondered how he could have ever let that man drift away from his life.

There was guilt now eating the inside of his gullet, building up into his brain and he apparated to the convenience store near his old apartment where old lady Greta worked. She'd always been nice to him and helped him choose his spices. He picked up some meat and some rice, pasta and some beer, vegetables and biscuits covered in dark chocolate. He figured that they are going to stay at the summerhouse for a while and having food on hand was somewhat of a priority.

When he came back home, Harry was still outside and Draco didn't know whether he had even noticed Draco was gone. Before letting his thoughts drift away once more, he cuffed his sleeves up to his elbows and set to work. Once the sky turned dark and dusty and the land surrounding got swallowed by the thick, suffocating fog, Draco heard the front door open and close. Harry was back inside.

"I fed Salus with pheasants," he said, walking into the kitchen and leaning over Draco to get a peak of his cooking.

"Where'd you get them?", Draco asked and slapped Potter's hand when he tried to take a piece of baked potatoes.

"The market. I got a great price too - six galleons a piece."

"And you're using your money to feed my dragon?", Draco raised an eyebrow even though his back was turned to Potter. He knew that his tone could indicate his facial expression as Harry had told him so many times before.

"It's our dragon, Malfoy. And besides, you're using your money to make us dinner." Draco could hear the scraping of a chair against the hardwood floor and busied himself with cutting the pie he'd made.

"Perhaps your petting zoo with dragons is not a bad idea after all," he admitted as he brought the dish to the table with plates and utensils floating after him.

"We'll talk about it later if you wish," Harry told him and Draco didn't find anything important to say. He had to satisfy the silence with a soft "M-hm." and then he sat down and they started eating. It was less than a minute before Harry broke the silence again.

"What's the meat?"

"Quail." Draco put a piece of pie into his mouth which suddenly felt dry as he locked eyes with Potter. He swished his wand and two cold bottles of beer came floating to the table.

"Everyone's eating birds today," Harry noticed and Draco only shrugged, taking his time to respond.

"I guess we believe that if we eat something that once could fly, we will be able to soar as well." Draco held Harry's gaze for a moment after that, a moment longer than they usually stared at each other. There seemed to be some deep, profound meaning hanging in the air but it didn't feel like either of them caught it. Harry simply said: "That's the dream" and they continued to eat in silence without another word spoken until they finished their meal.

They got up from the table and left their empty bottles near the sink. "I guess this is 'good night'?", Harry said and for a moment Draco saw that awkward boy from their years in Hogwarts who would scratch the back of his neck because he didn't know what to do with his hands. Draco smiled a polite little smile and said: "Good night, Potter."

"Good night... Malfoy," Harry's eyebrows furrowed for a bit as if he'd said something wrong.

"What?"

"Nothing, just...," Harry shook his head to dismiss it but he answered anyway. "I guess I was so used to calling you Draco that going back to our last names just seems weird... I mean, we're friends."

"We used to be friends." Draco corrected but Harry took a step forward, ready to defend his opinion. They were friends! They had to still be friends...

"Just because we haven't talked in a while doesn't mean we're not friends anymore. Our friendship card didn't get cancelled due to a sudden stop in its use. I don't think friendships work that way."

"Don't they?"

"I really don't think they do. Friendship time doesn't reset when you pick it up again - I think it simply unpauses." Harry shrugged at the end of his sentence and Draco worried his lip for a bit, thoughtful before shrugging too and asking, "So I'm supposed to call you Harry after throwing both a pan and a pot at your head?"

"Just if you apologise," Harry told him but he was smiling and suddenly Draco did feel the time unpause. Perhaps they weren't picking this all up at the exact same place they left it, but they were friends and Harry was there for Draco just as it was true the other way around.

"I apologise."

"Well, I accept it," Harry said with a nod and offered Draco his hand.

"Good night, Draco", he said with a grin on his face and something akin to joy plastered all over his words. Draco snorted and raised his eyebrow but still shook his hand, a moment before Harry turned and left him alone in the kitchen once more.

"Good night, Harry."

 


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Draco came downstairs the next morning, not only did he wish he'd strangled Potter at that pub before he could even utter the words 'pet the dragon', but also that he'd strangled himself for ever coming to this godforsaken place. He would have probably given his right arm for a night of decent sleep and waking to the eerily comforting sound of his Tempus alarm. He dragged himself downstairs, his body feeling as if he'd been mummified overnight and then brought back to life. Passing the table and Potter who was messing around with some food on the stove, he walked to the window.

Now, Draco Malfoy was never particularly good at subtlety - he was either completely blank and mysterious or he went all out, up to the point where it was blatantly obvious he was up to something, even to people halfway across the world. And now, when Harry glanced at his half-asleep form, yanking the curtains open to glare at the crowd that has gathered to witness what was either going to be the best petting zoo in history or an extremely traumatic experience that might just end in both Draco and Harry being dead, he couldn't help but snort in amusement.

"Draco, come get something to eat - it's nearly seven and we should get out there soon." When he heard the sound of several plates being put on the table, Draco turned around and sighed in annoyance.

"Can we hex them to leave?", he asked and, without sitting down, put some bacon and a slice of cheese on a piece of toast. He started eating the food looking like someone broke his umbrella on purpose during a heavy rainfall on his way to work.

"Sure we can. That doesn't mean we should, though," Harry shrugged and took a piece of toast for himself, coating it with butter and jam. "I mean, those pheasants won't pay for themselves..."

Draco didn't answer after that but transformed his slippers into something more... cold-proof, with the full intention of heading outside. "I'm going to entertain the crowd for a bit so if you want to finish your breakfast, you can."

"Sure, thanks." Harry smiled at him, grateful and then continued eating. Just before Draco opened the front door Harry called his name.

"I was thinking of brewing tea," he said, completely relaxed in his chair, almost curious to see how Draco in lilac pyjamas will handle a crowd of slightly frightened muggles. "You want some?"

"Yeah, um, thanks," Draco said and then after he turned added, "With milk and two sugars!"

With that, he exited the house. The day was chilly but there was no wind which was a nice change. He stood in front of his house, still in his pyjamas and boots which did not match at all, his hair twisted in knots and all messy from sleeping, and in his hand, there was a half-eaten piece of toast. He stared at the crowd and the crowd stared back, unmoving except for a few children who moved to stand behind their parents' legs.

"Boo!", Draco said suddenly, making Salus groan, and as a few people flinched and a couple of children ran towards the back of the crowd. Draco snickered. He couldn't imagine being in their place but it wasn't because he pitied them for their lack of magic but rather because he would never in a thousand years come and see an unfamiliar, dangerous animal without a weapon. The muggles didn't have weapons - two or three of them had umbrellas but no one carried torches or axes or anything similar.

"Good morning," Harry said from behind him, talking to the crowd. He glanced at the blond as he passed him with a confident smile and gave him his cup of tea. Harry took the last sip of his own tea and vanished the cup without a hint of an incantation or a wand - that was when Draco realised he couldn't help but admire Potter in a way, a very significant way that would never leave him completely neutral when it came to the Boy Who Lived.

"My name is Harry," Harry said, approaching Salus with big, fast steps. "That's Draco," he told the crowd, pointing at the poorly dressed friend of his as if Draco was too wearing a full set of colourful robes and as if his hair was also tied into a messy bun which wasn't messy at all but a perfect balance between mess and order which suited Potter like nothing in the world.

Harry had reached Salus then and as he stroked the shining black scales of a friend he couldn't have imagined to have just a week ago, the dragon purred almost like a cat, small puffs of smoke blowing out of his nostrils every now and then. "And this," Harry said then, with a soft, keen smile, his eyes darting only for a moment towards the crowd that lost its frightening frowns by now, "this is Salus. She's our dragon."

"And she eats bad people!", added someone from the crowd and when Harry caught the smiling eyes of the girl that warned him about his upcoming death experience, he smiled back and held out his hand.

"Wanna come pet her?", he asked and the girl looked up at her mother hopefully. Her mum nodded and took her hand, separating them from the crowd and walking towards Harry and his dragon through high grass.

Draco watched them, the way the girl's steps slowed when she came close to Salus and the way her mum smiled at her, encouragingly and pushed her forward, gently. He drank his tea in peace, all of the attention on Salus and Harry as per usual and watched as Harry said something to the woman and when she nodded, how he picked up the girl and how her small hands glided against the shoulder of their dragon.

Draco sighed as the girl giggled and turned away, walking back into the house to change, to make more tea, to eat one more toast or perhaps even two. The house was quiet when he entered, as quiet as it was when he'd first got there four days ago but now there was no dust in the air and the faint scent of bacon was still lingering in the kitchen.

He changed into comfortable muggle clothing, jeans and a T-shirt and a cardigan all in shades of black or grey. He brewed another cup of tea and watched the crowd of people loosen up, start to chat and eventually pet Salus without any fear in their eyes. He drank his tea and once there was only an empty cup on the table, he went back out.

The wind picked up his cardigan and he charmed it to stay wrapped around his body despite the weather conditions. He walked towards Harry who was checking his watch. He was standing a few feet away from Salus so the muggles would have enough space to walk around the dragon. Salus seemed to enjoy all the attention and when Draco finally reached Harry, he could see that Potter was smiling too, satisfied with the response.

"See?", he said as soon as Draco came to stand next to him. "No torches, no knives and all of us are still alive."

"We're lucky," Draco snickered and Harry looked up at him with a shrug.

"Perhaps."

The girl from before was now leading her little group of friends around to pet Salus' other side and Draco couldn't help but grin because they looked like a small troop of brave adventurers. "Did you tell them to be careful with the wing?", he asked and Harry nodded.

"Of course," he replied and looked back at Draco. "Salus is the priority here."

"And for how long?" Draco asked then and picked up a silk scarf which someone had lost in the grass. It was pale blue and it could barely be wrapped around your neck.

"What?"

There was a woman running towards them and she thanked Draco for finding the scarf. He smiled back and then turned towards Harry, folding his arms over his chest and sighed. "For how long will Salus be your priority? For how long will you stay here?"

"For as long as Salus needs me here," he said shaking his head as if the question confused him. He averted his gaze towards the dragon and then added: "Or for as long as you need me here."

They were silent for a while when there was a soft buzzing sound in Harry's pocket. "The reception's pretty bad here," he said, taking out his phone. "But at least the alarm still works."

He shrugged and went to tell the group of 'petters' that their time is up. There was already a dozen or so of new people who were nearing the dragon, excitement radiating from them. After Harry had collected the money and showed them that he had set an alarm, he returned to Draco and they fell back into the whole 'it's silence and we're ignoring anything important at the moment' routine which they'd established the first day, almost immediately after Harry's arrival.

"Don't you have work?" Draco finally asked, his words getting out through gritted teeth and his shoulders were tense.

"I do and I don't," Harry shrugged again and Draco noticed what had changed since they've been friends. Harry never used to shrug so much - Harry always had an answer to everything. Draco didn't know, at least not yet, whether he liked the uncertainty that now enveloped Harry's life.

He could tell, quite surely that he preferred this, whatever this new side of Harry was, to the routine that used to rule Harry's days when Draco still worked in the Ministry but there was something about Harry's spontaneous decisions that led Draco to believe there could be nothing good coming out of all of this. Harry was, or so it appeared to be, running from something. Draco didn't know what or whom Harry was running from, but he did know that he would stand here, with open arms to offer his house, his time and his company as something safe, as something worth running to.

"Hermione's coming over tomorrow," Harry then said and let his shoulders fall from his straight, confident posture he always kept in public. "She'll try to figure everything out."

"Salus or your work?" Draco asked but it felt like he knew the answer was somehow both.

"My holiday, the press, the whole 'we-have-an-illegal-dragon' mess," Harry said and closed his eyes for a moment. His bun was almost non-existent and the wind seemed to be blowing through him. His hair was twirling behind him and there was a soft curve of a smile on his lips.

"Can I lean against you?", he asked then and without saying a word, Draco wrapped his arms around him, hugging him from behind and he closed his eyes too, feeling the warm weight of Harry's body melt against him.

"How long do we have?" Harry asked after a moment or two or five.

"Of what?"

"Of this..." Harry looked up at him and folded his hands over Draco's which were wrapped around his waist.

"However long the world exists?" Draco shrugged with a smile.

"I meant 'till I have to change the muggle group," Harry chuckled but his hold on Draco tightened still. Draco took Harry's phone from Harry's pocket and pressed the home button. The screen turned on, almost too bright in the foggy afternoon of that day. He stared at the picture - Ron, Harry and Hermione sitting in some pub, laughing with half-drunk beers in front of them. Draco remembered the time when he was on Harry's lock screen. It used to be a picture of him and Hermione standing under a purple umbrella with Ron standing behind them in the rain, and the smallest bit of Harry's fingers on the edge of the frame. He couldn't help but wonder how long it did take before Harry decided to remove Draco from his lock screen background but he didn't ask.

"How long?" Harry's question seemed to echo around them as Draco put the phone back into Harry's pocket and closed his eyes once more, hugging him tighter.

"Seventeen minutes."

**~o~**

When Hermione knocked on their door the following morning, Draco was folding up a letter he'd written to Pansy with a stern reminder in his head to never tell her anything anymore until it's completely done and over with. He attached the letter to Nether's leg, not bothering to scent it or add any special decorations to the envelope because it wasn't like Pansy added any and also he was hurrying to leave the house.

After enduring such scolding in Pansy's latest note he had no desire to suffer any more critique from Hermione Granger of all people. He had nothing against Hermione. On the contrary, he respected her on a level he respected hardly anyone but there was something about her, the way she phrased things she said that made you feel as if she was the ultimate truth bringer and quite frankly, Draco wasn't ready to face the truth of this whole situation just yet.

He went down and as he passed the kitchen in a rush he saw the unpleasant frown that was already on Granger's face. He murmured his greetings and passed towards the front door when Harry called his name.

"Where're you going?", Harry asked with a small pleading smile on his face, his tone almost begging Draco not to leave but it was Harry's mess and if Draco had to deal with Pansy's howler alone, Harry has to deal with Granger's lecture alone.

"Groceries," Draco said and shrugged his coat on. "You need anything?"

Harry shrugged and glanced at the cupboards as if he could see their interior despite them being closed. "We're running out of tea..."

"Peppermint?", Draco asked and allowed himself a note of satisfaction when Harry smiled. "'Kay. I'll see you later!"

And with that he was out of the house, leaving Harry alone in the biggest mess he'd been in since Voldemort died, at least when it came to his friends being involved.

"So," Hermione started, her voice already sharp and on the edge of attacking Harry directly without holding back. "Care to tell me why you haven't asked Charlie to smuggle the dragon out of the country yet?"

"Because she's not mine," Harry shrugged, trying to appear casual but his tone was anything but.

"What do you mean?", Hermione rolled her eyes, annoyance already filling her voice because there was no way she could understand how every problem of Harry was made so unnecessarily complicated. "Aren't you the merchant? Didn't you buy her with a hefty amount of money that went nowhere but Malfoy's pocket?"

Harry sighed and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes and then, dropping his entire face into his hands because all the things he was about to say during that conversation were said easier if he didn't have to look into Hermione's eyes. It wasn't that he minded looking at her but you couldn't beat the logic that simply radiated from her and Harry didn't want to watch himself being defeated by logic at that moment.

This whole thing appeared to work so he wouldn't try to fix it. Of course, it didn't actually work and that's why Hermione was here to help him fix everything but perhaps if he didn't look at the reality reflecting in her eyes, he wouldn't have to face his problems. Yes, covering his entire face with his hands was the best idea at that point.

"You know how Malfoy is...", he finally murmured with a sigh.

"No, I don't Harry," Hermione shook her head. She didn't know. She never had known how Malfoy was because she was never the one who found a best friend in Malfoy. Harry looked at her and no one said anything for a while and then Harry sighed, propping his head on his hand. But his elbow slipped across the wooden table, and he didn't think lying on the table was a good idea. He leaned back into his chair all while the silence stretched on. His fingers were tapping a fast rhythm against his thigh when he finally answered.

"He doesn't like people helping him and then when he sent me that letter...", Harry shook his head, unable to find the words he wanted to say. He wished he could just stare into Hermione's eyes and dump the mess of his thoughts into her brain so he wouldn't have to say anything, but Legilimency was never something that made either of them particularly comfortable.

"He was so desperate," he finally said. "And his mother died recently and I... I just - "

"Missed being a hero," Hermione filled in for him with a small, worried smile.

"No," Harry denied immediately because that had never been true. He stopped for a moment, hesitating before his next words, but then with a sigh, he continued. "I missed  _him._  After he left I couldn't stop thinking about him but he wasn't returning my letters no matter what I did. I wanted to help him through that but he wouldn't let me and now he did and I'm not going to just walk away from that. He's my friend Hermione."

Then came silence in which Hermione's emotions fell all over the place and Harry could see in the shifting of her face that she couldn't decide how to react. Harry waited, not bothered by it, though, because he knew that once she answered, her answer would be the most beneficial one.

"That doesn't change the fact that it is illegal to possess a dragon and that both of you could be prosecuted and sentenced for it," she finally said with a gentle, caring voice she only used when talking to a hurt friend or her children. This was the true Hermione. "And that's without even touching the whole 'let's expose ourselves to muggles' thing."

"Salus is our friend," Harry murmured as if that was enough, as if that was going to save them from the fact that they were breaking the law with each second that passed. "And I don't think either of us can let her go now. Not after everything..."

"It's been less than a week!" Hermione replied with a chuckle that was more pitiful than anything else.

"She's injured, Hermione!" Harry stood up then, put on his glasses and took a deep breath. He walked to the stove and did the only thing he could - he put on some water and set on preparing tea. "And she brought us back together - I can't just forget that. Helping her is my way of saying thank you."

"You're thanking her for giving you your friend back but how do you know that he won't leave once Salus is recovered?" Hermione's voice seemed to echo around the small kitchen and Harry let himself think, think freely as his eyes watched the tiny bubbles form in the cooking water.

"I don't," he said, turning his back to the stove, catching Hermione's eye. "But I can hope. And luck has always been on my side."

"Luck won't be anywhere near you once DMLE finds out about this...", Hermione murmured and shook her head slowly, playing with her wedding ring.

"They don't know?" Harry asked, confusion evident on his face and in his tone. He walked closer to the table like he wouldn't be able to hear the answer from a few feet away.

"Not yet. Ron told them that you were overwhelmed with the amount of work you had and that you just disappeared to Majorca. I managed to get you a month worth of vacation time but the higher-ups are not happy about it - they lost their best Auror with such a lousy explanation...", she sighed and looked up at him. The water was near boiling by the sound of it but the silence was still tight when no one was speaking. "It's crucial that we manage Salus and everything connected to this village as soon as possible before someone starts doubting your emotional distress."

Harry nodded and turned to take the water off the heat. He poured the water into two mugs and dumped two chamomile tea bags into them. "But is a month enough?"

"It's more than enough. But I think our worry should not be whether or not Salus will recover but whether or not you will want to return," Hermione said and Harry felt like this was the peak of what she wanted him to hear.

"Why wouldn't I want to return?", he asked even though he felt he knew the answer.

"Seriously, Harry? It's been what? Four, five days? And you're already so attached to this little fictional life you've built with Draco Malfoy," she told him, taking a sip of her tea. "Can you honestly tell me that if I told you that you have to return to work tomorrow, you would?"

The silence piled around them, tight and suffocating, like jelly over them. They could move and break it if they tried but they didn't. It trapped them in the moulds of one another, their eyes locked, the expectations hanging over their heads.

"I... I can't answer that." Harry's voice was quiet and hoarse when he uttered the words and he watched Hermione's face fell as if all the hope for him has been lost. He understood her concern but at the same time, it felt like she was overexaggerating.

"Why not? Why can't you answer it?", she asked, leaning forward and taking his hand in hers. He shook his head and there was a bitter smile on his face. The reality was catching up with him, the nonsensical reasons for his stay, the ridiculous way he'd just disappeared and came rushing towards this little town.

"You know why."

"If it's so hard to leave now, can you imagine leaving after a month of this?" She squeezed his hand and he pulled back, rubbing his eyes once more, knocking off his glasses. He sighed and looked at her. The lights suddenly appeared dimmer and the air was dusty and old like it always had been but it was only noticeable at that precise moment.

"Everything's become so bland, so dull...", Harry murmured finally, his words coming out in slow intervals. "I feel like... like I'm stuck on a carousel. I'm sitting on it and the speed accelerates and I'm looking at the world so blurred from within this system and for the first few rounds, it felt amazing. It was new and it was fresh and it was just a tiny bit dangerous if I stopped paying attention, if I lost my grip for a moment. But then it didn't stop - I kept doing circles and circles, around and around we went, always seeing the same trees the same benches and the feeling of air through my hair that reminded me of flying is now so ordinary. After a while, I feel sick to my stomach and all I want is to get off of it, but there is no way I can do it except for jumping."

"And you jumped," Hermione whispered into the air between them and her voice was as quiet as his, a perfect counterpart.

"I jumped," he nodded with a shaky breath. "And I can't see the carousel anymore. Everything is clearer now which is ironic because I've never seen so much fog in my life." They both chuckled and Harry turned towards the window where he could catch a glimpse of Salus sleeping as she usually was, the scaly back of her body moving up and down as she breathed.

"But I never imagined I would ever have time to put on a ridiculous costume and sell tickets to muggle kids to pet a dragon," Harry then shrugged and he could feel the words coming to an end, as the time ticked on. "Sometimes, one has to wake up to a foggy meadow and a grumpy Slytherin and just forget that anything else really exists... just to stop the carousel."

The silence stretched on like warm cheese and as they sipped their lukewarm tea, a certain calmness overtook the room. The light from outside was grey and bright and there were streaks of it falling over the floor through the windows. Harry watched the dust move through them, his eyes moving from the light towards the meadow outside and then to Salus who made a low, tired sound and turned her sleeping head over. Hermione followed his gaze and then her voice broke the settling silence.

"Salus was the name of the Roman goddess of safety, of salvation," she informed him and he turned back towards her. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's a good name then." He put his cup down and she did the same, aligning them so the handles were touching.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..." Their words were so low that they could barely be heard. Harry cleared his throat. "Even after only three days, Salus feels like safety, like something familiar."

"Do you think he'll save you from your carousel?" Hermione asked and stood up to bring the mugs into the sink. Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I hope so," he said, letting the words hang in the air.

**~o~**

There were chess pieces scattered across the kitchen table and Harry was slowly putting them away in their box when Draco finally came home. It was something Draco hadn't expected - Harry and chess at such close proximity - but his rumbling stomach distracted him from thinking too much about anything that wasn't food.

"Are rice and veggies okay?", he asked, entering the kitchen with two full bags of groceries.

"Sure," Harry shrugged and nodded but Draco could see in his furrowed eyebrows that there was something else on the tip of his tongue - a question perhaps? But when Harry didn't say a word and instead continued to put away chess pieces and tea-stained cups, Draco let it go and started unpacking his shopping bags. Soon, the fridge and the cabinets were filled with all sorts of food ranging from pasta and rice, crackers and instant noodles to fresh fruits and vegetables, at least three kinds of jam, and two sorts of milk.

"So that's what's taken you so long," Harry chuckled as he helped Draco store the last bits of bought things - two milk chocolates and coconut biscuits.

"If we're planning to stay," Draco replied, "we should at least have good food at hand." Harry looked at him weirdly but didn't comment the time it took Draco to find perfect groceries.

That was for the best, in Draco's opinion, because if Harry had started questioning his shopping habits, Draco would undoubtedly have to admit that he bought everything they needed in just under half an hour and the rest of his absence was spent at the pub, overdosing with coffee and procrastinating his return to the house - if he had a chance to stay away from Granger's lectures, he was almost forced to take it.

After that, they chit chatted away along with cooking late lunch. It was just after four and neither of them had anything to eat except Harry's scrambled eggs that morning. Surprisingly, it was Draco who did most of the work and even though the meal wasn't anything fancy or anything complicated, he found himself very satisfied any time he caught Harry glancing at him with a clear look in his eyes that told anyone who cared to look that he was impressed with Draco's actions.

When the kitchen was filled with the scent of mixed spices and herbs, the rice was done and Draco took it as his job to serve it. "I bought some wine," he told Harry and as soon as he said it, Harry nodded and went to get the glasses. "It's cheap and it's probably some watered-down crap but it's alcoholic and they didn't have anything else except for those small bottles of whiskey that can barely fit for one serving."

As Harry poured the wine, Draco took out the two deepest plates he could find and filled them with a generous amount of rice and vegetables. The meal was steaming as he walked towards the living room where Harry had sat down in one of the armchairs. Draco sat into the one opposite of him and handed Harry his plate while Harry did the same with his glass of wine.

"This is too comfortable, Potter," Draco groaned but he was smiling. He took a sip of wine and then let his glass levitate next to his chair, taking the fork instead and digging in. "Getting up to clean up Salus' wing is going to be a torture and it's all your fault."

"Well," Harry started and ate a bite of rice before continuing. "you're in luck, Malfoy because Hermione insisted to supervise our treatment of Salus so we already changed her bandages. We're free until morning."

"How's it looking? Is it healing?", Draco asked before the topic switched.

"It's healing really well. If nothing goes wrong and everything stays on track, I think we would be able to remove the bandages in less than a week."

"That sounds promising," Draco said but without a hint of sarcasm. He truly hoped that Salus would recover from her injury. "I really hope everything ends well - I don't think I would be able to let go of her if her situation worsened."

"Me neither. I hadn't realised it before but I think I've grown attached to Salus like I haven't been attached to anyone in a long time," Harry admitted and his fork nearly fell from his fingers as his grip loosened.

"She's a special dragon, I can tell you that," Draco shrugged and took another bite. "But for now, get attached to your rice and eat - your food is getting cold."

"Yes mum," Harry rolled his eyes and they both laughed at the remark before settling into a comfortable silence filled with a dying day and the sounds of forks against china.

They ate and the afternoon slowly melted into the evening. Draco finished first and he rose up from his chair to take his plate away to the sink. He turned towards the kitchen but then Harry made a high pitched sound somewhere between a squeak and a cough but whatever it was, it caught Draco's attention. He looked back at Potter only to see him shoving forkfuls of rice into his face like he was five years old. Oh, the lengths Potter would go just so he wouldn't have to stand up from his comfortable sitting space.

When Draco returned, both plates and both forks now successfully in the sink, he took his glass and filled it halfway with wine. He walked over to Potter and leaned the bottle towards his glass, asking with a quirk of an eyebrow, "More wine?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Draco Malfoy?", Harry asked in return with a snort but nodded in affirmation anyways.

"Perhaps", Draco shrugged on his way back to his armchair. The bottle was left right in the middle of the table so either of them would have to stand up to pour more. Draco's reasoning was split between his wish to see Harry lazily levitate the bottle towards himself, and stopping himself from drinking too much. Harry didn't have any good reason for leaving the bottle where it was except for his laziness.

"That's a good plan," Harry said at last but then tilted his head and watched the wine in his glass move in circles as he twisted his wrist one way or another. "But a useless one. You know I would tell you anything completely sober - you don't need wine to open my mouth."

"Doesn't that make you a bad Auror?" Draco snorted and took a gulp of the wine. It was too sweet and, as expected, watered-down, but it was wine and it was better than nothing.

"That's a different story. But even if it does, I don't care - it makes me a good friend... well, kinda?" Harry shrugged at the end and when Draco grinned, amused at him, he grinned back. "So ask, my dear friend Draco, ask what you wish to know!"

Draco allowed himself to chuckle a little before asking: "Did you like the rice?"

"It was amazing! A masterpiece!"

"You're making fun of me..." Draco said and downed his glass. He didn't feel like standing up to reach the bottle so he let his empty glass rest in his hand.

"Not at all!", Harry replied, shaking his head. "It was exceptional when you take into account the simplicity of the recipe and the time frame it took to make. To be honest, I was surprised by the sole fact that it was edible."

"Why?", Draco laughed then but his voice was hesitant when he spoke.

"I didn't know you could cook," Harry said simply and drank his wine.

"I didn't know you could play chess," Draco countered and both of them shrugged, grinning at each other when they mirrored the motion and finally descended into a silence where both of them tried to gather their thoughts. Harry levitated the bottle to his glass and then Draco's and once they both had enough wine and enough words to share, they began speaking again.

"I learned chess because my elderly secretary just happened to hate doing crosswords as much as I hated doing paperwork," Harry said, being the one who broke the silence first. "Her name was Mrs Harris and she was very kind, good with people and best of all - she brought me homemade biscuits every Monday morning. I don't remember how it all started but in the afternoon when the whole department was getting ready to go home, she would come to my office and teach me how to play. It was one of the best parts of my day but then she retired."

"Your days must have been awful after she left," Draco guessed but Harry just smiled at him and took a sip of wine to hide his grin.

"Not really," he finally answered. "You came along with your rants and your tea and your salty mashed potatoes for lunch so it wasn't so bad."

" 'Wasn't so bad' ", Draco mocked in an absurd imitation of Harry's voice. "Admit it, Potter - our joined lunch breaks were the highlight of your miserable days."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Harry murmured and took a big sip of wine. Draco could see him blushing even though he was trying to shove his entire face into the glass to hide it. Draco wondered, though, whether the blush was from the memories, from some hidden feelings or simply, from the wine, but there was something about Harry's face that told him that he could cancel the wine from the equation.

"Enough about me," Harry said then, clearing his throat after it. "Tell me about you and cooking already."

"There's nothing much to say," Draco replied, sighing and pulling his legs up on the armchair into a more comfortable and relaxed position. "You remember how I had to give up magic for six months as a part of my redemption programme or whatever that was after the war?"

Harry simply nodded and motioned for him to continue.

"Well, I didn't want to eat muggle take-out every night and I couldn't have an elf or anything so my only option was to learn how to cook. I watched those 24/7 cooking channels on muggle television and although I did ruin a couple of pans and pots and I nearly set my kitchen on fire at least twice, I became good at it," Draco explained and then took a break, drinking more wine. "I like cooking and after that, it became something that relaxes me like nothing else so it stayed with me."

"That's a great story, Draco," Harry said and the tone of his voice and the softness of his eyes told Draco that he wasn't joking this time either. They fell into silence again and Harry poured them more wine, Draco's eyes following his every move and then when the wine was poured, Draco cleared his throat.

"I've been meaning to ask you something but it just never came up..."

"Ask, then. I'll answer anything," Harry encouraged him and Draco looked at him doubtfully.

"Really, Harry? Anything?"

"Anything." Harry's tone was firm and determined and when Draco told him he looked like he was constipated, they both laughed and Harry asked Draco to ask him what he wanted.

"Are you and Ginny still friends?", he asked and even though it felt like something entirely private, Draco felt that Harry trusted him enough to answer. "Pansy said it was a mess of a breakup..."

"Well, yeah, I guess," Harry shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "It was just two weeks after you left and that just hurt me and by the time you left, Ginny and I were already hanging by a thread. We fought and we broke up. But we made up and apologised soon after – you know we couldn't live without each other but even though we were special to one another, we just weren't relationship material.

"How did you keep it out of the press?", Draco asked after a moment of silence and Harry snorted.

"You know I have connections. I started paying for my privacy a long time ago and now it's like paying a monthly subscription to all the bigger papers, but more expensive," Harry just shrugged and then sighed, pouring himself more wine. The bottle was half empty and he cast a Tempus to quickly check the time.

"As for Ginny and me," Harry started again, his voice suddenly tired, sounding like he'd given this explanation so many times the words are unable to sound bothered anymore. "It was a mutual decision. We just wanted different things - "

"Took you long enough to realise!", Draco interrupted and Harry snorted.

"I had to propose before we realised. I still have the ring and that panicked 'No!' still hurts but it's for the best. You know how Ginny is... she's all adventure and spontaneous trips to Argentina and making it big in the Quidditch world. And I...", Harry stopped there and Draco grinned at him, completely understanding - Harry was the direct opposite.

"And you, you dream of a picket fence, three children and the One."

"Well, yeah," Harry laughed shortly at that and sighed, dropping his head backwards and closing his eyes for a second or two before looking back at Draco. "We needed different things and it's better for both of us to break it off than get married and live in misery."

"Definitely true," Draco nodded once and both of them grinned then.

"And what about you? Any special man dying of worry back home because you haven't returned?" Harry asked then, relaxing back into his slow wine-sips and the comfort of purple cushions beneath his arse.

"Are you crazy?" Draco laughed out loud like he hadn't in a while. "I'm Draco Malfoy, Harry. That kinda speaks for itself."

"Not in the muggle world," Harry suggested but Draco only shook his head.

"I'm kinda like you - I need someone to understand me and how can someone whose biggest problem is buying more milk going to understand layers of trauma I went through during the war they've never heard of?"

Harry said nothing then and they took their time to drink and to contemplate. Draco would soon be glad that he emptied his glass before Harry because the next question caught him completely off guard.

"Are you a virgin then?"

Draco was thrown into another fit of laughter and when he finally calmed down after what felt like hours, he cleared his throat and started talking in a voice which was surprisingly similar to that one would use to talk to a small child when explaining a difficult concept.

"Muggles don't understand magic, Harry, nor do they understand the trauma left by our war but, for Merlin's sake, they have cocks and they have lube and they have gay clubs and that's enough for a good time."

"So you lost your virginity to a one night stand?", Harry asked and the look on his face is full of pity if not mocking.

"I didn't say that. I lost my virginity to my good friend Henry during a holiday in France," Draco twirled his fingers through the air making it all sound more pompous and over the top. "It was very unreal, very picturesque, very pleasing. He was very experienced before I came into his bed so it wasn't as messy as it could have been and since we were friends we knew we could take our time and care for each other. He has extremely long fingers, Harry - it's almost unbelievable. And his lips are as soft as a peach. It was like something from a dream but to be quite frank, it ruined sex for me for a bit because bathroom blowjobs just can't reach such high expectations, you know."

"I want to say I do know," Harry said and there is amusement and laughter in his eyes when they catch Draco's. "But, Draco, I am so sure you made all of that up and if you didn't I just don't know what to think."

"I didn't make it up and I will give you a moment to recover."

They sat there, staring at each other and as the silence stretched, laughter bubbled more and more in their chests until they burst into giggles that lasted longer than any before.

"So," Harry said after a while, brushing away his laughing tears. His face hurt as he talked but he was determined. "When did you know you were gay?"

Draco would have laughed at that question if he hadn't just laughed for a couple of minutes. "Shouldn't you have asked me this a couple of years ago when you were questioning?"

"Maybe," Harry shrugged, a grin now permanent on his flushed face. "But I'm asking you now. When did you know?"

"Ah, awfully noisy, aren't we, Potter?", Draco tried to backtrack again but there was no escape. Harry was grinning at him almost like a mad man and there was a bottle of wine flying towards him to fill his glass.

"Harry. Call me Harry and answer my question."

Draco stared at him then, trying to think of a solution out of this but the only one would be to leave and that felt like awfully rude and not something that Draco would enjoy at the moment - he felt comfortable with this dynamic between his tipsy old self and his tipsy old Harry and the armchairs and the floating wine bottle.

"I was fourteen," he said through gritted teeth and pouting lips as Harry's smirk grew. "I had just snogged Pansy during a truth or dare. After that moment everything was surprisingly simple and dreadfully obvious - kissing Parkinson was one of the worst things that had happened to me up to that point. Kissing Theo, however... well, that was a whole other story."

Draco watched Harry grin at him, expecting some clever comment but when nothing came he took a sip of wine and asked him in return.

"And you Wonderboy? We all know when you realized but what had started the questioning? What handsome young lad had caught your eye and sent you running and screaming to my office that beautiful Wednesday morning?"

"It wasn't just one person," Harry said like it was the easiest thing in the world and perhaps it was. Perhaps Draco was just melodramatic about the moment of his gay-awakening. "It was a lot of people and then it was no one and... I don't know... Now that I look back at it all I can't even comprehend how blind I was. I mean, just my fourth year alone! Cedric, Fleur, Cho, Viktor", Harry counted on his fingers, "I was drooling over all of them but like, I was so convinced that it was just, you know, admiring the aesthetic."

"Aesthetic my ass," Draco laughed and drank more wine. "There was this rumour that Cedric invited you to the prefects' bathrooms and you didn't even get the hint..."

"Wait, what? There was a hint there?!" Harry almost jumped from his chair and Draco couldn't figure out whether it was regret or surprise or disgust that made Harry's eyes so wide.

"Of course there was, Potter! I mean, perhaps you were blind but I can assure you that at least one-third of Hogwarts students that year daydreamed about walking in on you four doing it," Draco informed him and now it was Harry's turn to stare.

"You're kidding me, right?", Harry asked and his voice came out thin and squeaky.

"Nope," Draco smirked at him and then downed his wine before rolling his eyes. "But now, tell me, who was the last drop in the full-bisexual-awakening cup?"

"Oliver Wood," Harry murmured and looked away, suddenly very interested in the way the curtains fell across the living room windows.

"Oliver Wood? That's all it took to get your knickers in a twist?" Draco's drawl made him sound very disappointed but in fact, it was only a trick - all one had to do was to seem very bored and then all the dirty details came out in order to defend the victim's crush.

"That's all it took? That's all it took?!" Harry repeated, shocked. "Have you seen that guy recently?! He looks like a bloody wet dream!"

Draco watched Harry lose his shit for one more moment before he laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know, I know," he agreed. "That guy could probably make a filthy back-alley handjob become the best sexual experience of your life."

"Yes, for sure! Thank you!" Harry finally relaxed back and Draco chuckled at him once more, shaking his head.

"You're such a bi-mess, Potter," Draco said and Harry pretended to pout.

"No need to rub it in," he murmured and then chuckled, drinking his wine.

They ended up silent after that, letting everything settle, drinking some more wine slowly, because they only had so much left, and catching each other's glances from time to time. Each time their eyes ended up meeting they grinned at each other because this was pleasant and it felt safe despite the fact that the conversation drifted off every once in a while.

They talked later on, about small, unimportant things and the moon was high above them when the first serious yawns started arriving. It was Draco who yawned first and it caused Harry to look at him. Harry's head was tilted and there was a small, soft smile on his lips, his eyes were focused on Draco's face and overall Draco couldn't figure him out.

"What?", he finally asked and Harry shrugged.

"What what?" The way Harry smiled then made him look younger, younger than he had looked in years and it made Draco smile too despite his slight frustration due to Harry's staring.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Potter?", Draco murmured and the words floated to Harry like that empty bottle of wine. "What do you want?"

"That, Draco -," Harry said, and it made Draco convince himself that they both needed to go to sleep already, "- is the best thing you've asked the whole night."

 


	4. Chapter 4

The days passed, turning into a week and then two, their nights becoming somewhat separated from their days. During the day everything was tinted in the pale blue colour of the cold sky and filled with excited whispers of children running across their garden while they waited for their turn to pet Salus. During the night, the colours shifted to warm brown and red, the colours of illuminated furniture and shifting moonlight, red wine and salty crackers topped with cheddar.

Harry and Draco fell into a comfortable place that had become their own over the passing days and it was two weeks after the initial opening of the petting zoo that their solace was disrupted by a guest. Charles Weasley had invited himself to their temporary residence to help and to observe. Even though he had suspected that his friends had better things to think of than his arrival, never would the thought have crossed his mind that he might just find Draco and Harry chatting along as they ate their breakfast in their sleepwear while constantly walking to the kitchen window to glance at their dragon.

"Good morning," Charlie greeted in a surprisingly good mood and when he received two, surprised but glad smiles, he allowed himself to walk to the window and check the dragon out himself. He thought it had been a good idea to apparate directly into the house because otherwise, he would've found himself studying the beautiful specimen of Hebridean Black for hours on end without even saying 'Hi' to his owners (with owners being a relative term, of course, because noble creatures such as dragons couldn't be owned, merely... domesticated).

As he stared at the dragon, a thousand ideas for his journal running through his head, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Harry smiling at him, almost amused by Charlie's fascination although Charlie knew they'd expected his amazement. Harry handed him a cup of something warm and steaming, the scent of spices wafting through the air and after he took a sip he realised it was a cup of Harry's famous spiced tea concoction.

"Welcome," Harry said and motioned for him to sit before sitting down as well. Draco remained at his position, leaning against the cabinets and Charlie relaxed when the blond waved at him with a small smile on his face. Charlie wasn't certain what the whole situation was before coming here - he knew Draco found a dragon, he knew Harry was there to help him deal with it, and he knew that this was the first time they interacted in almost a year.

There was a huge sigh of relief escaping through Charlie's lips when he realised that his two friends were on good terms again. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Draco with a smirk. "You've grown soft, Malfoy."

"And you've grown a beard, Weasley" Draco countered, lifting his eyebrow. As an instant reaction, Charlie carded his fingers through the curly locks of his newly grown beard and snorted.

"And in my defence -," Draco started after taking a sip of his tea, with all four eyes on him as he pushed back from the cabinets. "- I've grown comfortable and that doesn't mean I'm soft. Ask Harry: just two days ago I threatened a group of town teens when they dared to trespass."

Charlie glanced at Harry then and Harry had the nerve to snort. "It was four in the morning and he asked me to shout at them about beheadings before he went back to sleep."

"You will pay for this, you know," Draco muttered, passing the table towards the stairs, his cup half empty and still in his hand. "You live under my roof and I can kick you out whenever I want."

"Yeah, yeah, I'd like to see that," Harry replied but his smile faltered when Draco only tilted his head and raised his eyebrow while glancing at him. When he was halfway up the stairs, Harry called him back.

"Hey, where are you going?", he asked even though he had several ideas, the best of them, changing into normal clothes.

"I have letters to write, things to say, things to do," Draco just shrugged, stopping in his way.

"Things more important than teaching Salus how to fly again?", Harry frowned at Draco's sudden change of attitude - only yesterday he was just as excited as Harry to finally start Salus' flying exercises.

"Well, if the Saviour of the Wizarding World and the director of an organisation specifically specialised in the recovery of wounded dragons can't deal with a small Hebridean Black, then I can with confidence say that we're screwed, Harry." And with that, Draco was out of the kitchen, disappearing somewhere on the upper floor - his room or his balcony, Harry guessed.

When Harry finally turned from the empty staircase back towards Charlie, Charlie was shaking his head slightly in amusement. "What?", Harry asked, completely confused by the pitiful smile Charlie was giving him.

"Nothing," Charlie shook his head and drank half of his tea in one gulp.

"What is it, Charlie?", Harry asked again, a bit of his interrogatory voice slipping into his tone.

"Nothing, Harry," he repeated. "You'll find out soon enough. Can we go see the dragon now? I'm dying to meet her."

"Not before you tell me why you were giving me that look," Harry said firmly but Charlie laughed softly and scratched his beard.

"It's nothing important, so there's no reason to tell you."

"Well, tell me about your organisation then? Since when do you have an organisation, Charlie?", Harry leaned back and wrapped all of his fingers around the cup that was still warm to the touch despite its quickly disappearing contents.

"Honestly, you're probably the only one who hasn't heard of it yet," Charlie sighed with an easy smile. "Don't you read the newspaper? I've been in the Prophet at least twice in the last three months..."

"You know I don't like them very much," Harry shrugged and motioned for him to speak. Charlie looked at him for a moment as if he was trying to figure out whether Harry was joking or not, but when Potter's face remained completely serious, he started speaking.

"So, it's a non-profit organisation I founded about five months ago and it's based in Belgium in this wonderful town called Bruges. It's specialised in finding wounded dragons in western Europe and helping them recover from what were either man-induced injuries or accidents that happened during their life in the wild. We also keep track of the number of dragons in Belgium, France, Ireland, Monaco, Netherlands, Luxembourg and the UK, so if any population is critically low, we work on breeding the species so it wouldn't die out. It's as simple as that."

"You didn't tell me what it is called," Harry snorted and put his cup on the table. He watched Charlie roll his eyes but he could see in his eyes and in the smile on his face that Charlie was proud of his organisation - almost as proud as a mother would be of her children.

"Don't laugh, but the acronym is SPEWED," Charlie said slowly and Harry laughed, short and mocking but it was all good fun. "It stands for the Society for Preservation of  Endangered West-European Dragons."

"Was it Hermione's idea?", Harry laughed and Charlie only shook his head with an eye roll.

"Sure it was! Do you think Hermione would ever be able to tame an injured dragon?", Charlie said and Harry shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, that woman is the most brilliant person I've ever met, but you can't tell me dragons are her thing."

"Well, that's why we got you here...", Harry stood up and after putting their cups onto the counter, motioned for Charlie to follow him outside. He noticed the excited spark in Charlie's eyes and smiled to himself. Charlie hurried, making his steps bigger and quicker, passing Harry before they even managed to get to the front door.

"It's good to have you here," Harry said as he walked after Charlie who suddenly seemed like he discovered all the secrets of the universe. A part of Harry wondered when was the last time his heartbeat quickened in excitement due to his job but the rationality in his mind pushed those thoughts away - heavy topics like that would always get pushed aside until examining them would be exceedingly important for Harry.

"Huh?" Charlie slowed down, glancing back at Harry. "Oh, yeah, I'm glad to be here before you two made such a mess not even Hermione can handle it."

"Pff," Harry snorted then, nearing Salus who curiously rose her tilted head and stared at the approaching stranger. "Hermione could handle anything and all of us know it."

"That's true," Charlie agreed and his voice grew softer as he spoke. Harry told him in a letter that Salus had become accustomed to new people due to the petting zoo but you never knew with dragons. His steps were slow and he could hear Harry approaching behind him.

He was less than a foot away from the dragon, small puffs of smoke curling around his fingers as he stretched out his hand to touch Salus's cheek. "Hey there," he whispered, that slight nervous tingle covering his skin as it always did when approaching a new animal. "You're a beautiful girl, aren't you?"

His fingers grazed across the smooth, black scales and he let out a sigh as the dragon curled her head up towards him, leaning into his touch. There was a grin on his face and he could feel the dragon moving, vibrating in what could only be purring.

"How?", he asked Harry, who was now standing on the other side of Salus' head, stroking her neck, absent-mindedly as if it was the most normal thing in his life. The interesting thing was that somehow, very quickly, this had become his normality and it was more comfortable than any of the normal things he'd been doing for years.

"She likes people, I guess," Harry only shrugged. "Draco said she was very fatigued when he found her and since both he and I have taken care of her, both regarding her wing and her food, she's grown to like us. She trusts us for as long as we trust her and I think that, by extent, that means she trusts anyone we trust."

Charlie stared at him, his hands drawing lines in the acres of vibrating black scales. It was something so unbelievable that it'd left him out of words. "You do realise," he said, slowly so he had time for the proper words to form in his mind, "that taming a dragon like this one, the way you two did, usually takes months, years even, and you did that in a couple of weeks... Harry, that's just... I don't know what to say."

Harry shrugged as if it wasn't that big of a deal but pride bloomed in his chest. He leaned against Salus and laid his cheek onto the top of her head and as he did, she turned to him, her wing moving to envelop him. Charlie laughed and Harry grinned too and for a while, there was nothing but the huffing of Salus, the soft sound of the wind and their fingers gliding against the texture of Salus' skin.

"I can't even imagine what the Prophet would do if they found out what the two of you were really doing," Charlie said after a while, just as Harry moved from Salus' embrace to walk to her other side and check her wing. It was healed completely but sometimes in the morning there was still a swelling present.

"They have their theories, and their ideas," Charlie continued. "But this... this is better than anything they could've come up with."

His eyes followed Harry's fingers as they examined the flesh of Salus' shoulder. The tips of Harry's fingers pressed softly down and when there was no growling heard, only a small huff of discomfort, Harry smiled. It was progress.

He turned to go to the back yard towards the shed where they kept Salus' food, and Charlie followed him. "What kind of theories?", Harry asked, anxiety taking hold of his usual curiosity. "Are any of them believable?"

"By what I hear from Ron and Hermione, they are believable enough to make the Aurors question your reason for the vacation."

"What do you mean?" They were near the shed now and Harry flicked his fingers to open the doors.

"Well, people are quite certain that Draco and you ran away together to some secluded part of the world where you will come up with a way to get more power in the Ministry," Charlie answered, his voice quick and conspiratorial as if he was actually certain of the idea too, but Harry knew none of his friends would ever think he wanted any power.

"You know how people are...," Charlie continued and followed Harry's lead, taking a pheasant in each of his hands. "An ex-Death Eater and the Golden Boy going missing from London at the same time... Harry Potter taking a sudden vacation in the middle of February... DMLE representative's inability to confirm or deny any theories because your vacation information is private... All of it looks very suspicious and while the public gossips, the Ministry starts doubting what they know."

Harry was quiet for a moment, trying to take everything in. He felt like the weight of the pheasants in his hands suddenly grew and the grass he walked through suddenly became higher and firmer, harder to move through. It was at that moment he felt the reality of his situation came rushing into his brain for really the first time since he'd met Draco in the middle of the meadow he was standing in.

He felt panic of uncertainty rise through his chest and he slowed his steps, taking a few slow, careful breaths. Charlie stopped before him, asking him if he was alright and Harry nodded. His heartbeat came down only slightly and his thoughts were still a mess - the fear of being pulled back into his office chair, the fear of Salus being taken, the fear of seeing the disappointment and the heartbreak in Draco's eyes after this dream they'd created crushed like sugar glass, was pulling on his limbs.

He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to pull away from the fear, from the future he couldn't see clearly nor positively, and focus onto the task at hand. They reached Salus again and Harry pulled the dead bird up so Salus could sniff it before she ate it.

"These are her favourite," Harry said, his voice slightly shaking, hoping Charlie wouldn't notice and knowing that he definitely would notice the shaking of his hands. Charlie nodded and moved to stand on Harry's other side, so he could give the bird to Salus easier.

"Well," Harry said, after a moment of tense silence mixed with the growling sounds of ripping meat and gulping food made by the dragon. "Tell me about Belgium."

And Charlie did, taking the worrisome thoughts away from Harry's focus once again, at least for a moment, or two, or five, for as long as it was necessary.

**~o~**

The days of Charlie's three-day visit passed in what Harry could only describe as a blur. It was due to the short time of his stay that they had to make their schedules more frantic and dense and neverending because they did, after all, want to get as many things done as possible so the progress of Salus' recovery could be even greater. From waking up at the ungodly hours of still non-existent dawn, over countless hours of skipping meals in order to get as much time for persuading Salus to move and do something, to the long evenings spent bent over the plethora of notes and ideas and observations on dragon care and dragon anatomy and dragon healing.

It was only in the quiet moments between Salus' stretching sessions that Harry had time to let his thoughts flow freely rather than in the fixed box focused on getting their dragon to fly. It was then that his eyes glanced all around him with hopes of catching Draco somewhere in his peripheral vision but most of the time, the blond was nowhere near. Harry noticed that he'd only been with him and Charlie during their Salus' treatment once in the entire three days and it was only for a short amount of time. Harry didn't have time or any idea of how he would confront him about what was clearly avoiding the two of them, but with other worries in mind, he let Draco be for at least until Charlie went back to Belgium.

So, without allowing himself to think of anything other than Salus, he worked non-stop on helping Salus feel no pain when she stretched her wing, on bribing her to try hovering above the ground, on making sure she knew she was safe in their hands. He worked non-stop and after over a year in his office position, the physical work was unexpectedly hard, but still a pleasant experience.

It was on the last day of Charlie's assistance that they finally managed to get Salus to fly more than a foot from the ground. It was Charlie, settled right behind her shoulder blades, whispering sweet things into her ear and glancing every so often at Harry, who was about a hundred yards away with a delicious slab of beef in his hands. It happened in an instant and Charlie swore he couldn't figure out what triggered it but suddenly, Salus rose to her feet and before Charlie could do anything but take a better hold on her neck, she was flying about fifteen feet from the ground, her wings making loud noises as they broke the air. The landing was sloppy and Charlie nearly fell off, but when he got down, with the earth under his legs, there was not one particle in his body that wasn't completely ecstatic.

"We did it!", he yelled and threw his arms around Harry, not minding that Harry's blood-smeared hands were staining his T-shirt. "We got her to fly!"

"We did!", Harry nodded quickly and laughed with his friend, both of their grins as wide as ever. Harry glanced at the house, wondering whether Draco was still in his room and if they should go tell him the news, but before he came to a decision Charlie was calling Salus' name and running across the field.

"Come on, Sal!", he yelled so loud that Harry didn't doubt his throat hurt. "You can do it! We know you can!"

He didn't have any meat in his hands and in Harry's opinion the chances of getting Salus to fly were pretty slim but it was as if the enthusiasm was all the encouragement Salus ever needed. She let out a weak roar like she was saying: "Eh, why the hell not?", and just like that, she was soaring.

Higher than before she flew past Charlie, past the summerhouse and just as Harry had lost hope of her returning and all his thoughts about her abandoning them came rushing to his head, she took a right turn, circled the house and came down at her usual napping spot. Her eyes closed and a puff of smoke came through her lips.

That was three hours ago and she was still asleep. Charlie and Harry came out to the windy field with their half-drunk cups of coffee only mere minutes ago and we're currently enjoying the peace that surrounded both the house and the sleeping creature they'd come to check up on. They were talking about nothing important and nothing serious, only about some of the more ridiculous theories regarding Harry's disappearance like the one where he time travelled to a different timeline to change the official colour of the Auror robes because he didn't think the standard burgundy and grey matched his eyes or the one where he secretly kidnaps one of his colleagues a day and then pretends to be them so he could experience the world through new eyes.

Draco found them like that, smiling and not minding the cold that was biting at Draco's cheeks and causing him to pull his scarf tighter around his neck.

"Hey, you," Harry smiled at him when he approached and Draco nodded in greeting before flashing a grin to Charlie as well. "Haven't seen you around in a while..."

"Yeah, I had to go send some letters and they don't really have wizarding post-offices around here," Draco said, shrugging and Harry nodded and took a deep breath. The grin on his face grew and Draco's brow furrowed in confusion for a second before Harry caught his eye.

"Salus flew today!", he said finally, and the happiness spread almost instantly to Draco who grinned, too. He felt giddy and proud and not so different than from the way he felt after winning a Quidditch match. It was a good feeling that overwhelmed him from head to toe and as his thoughts rushed, his body moved and when he finally managed to calm down for even a second he realised he was hugging Harry.

His arms were wrapped tightly around Harry's body and Harry was hugging him back, rocking them on their feet and chuckling with excitement, unbothered by the fact that this was the very first time the two of them had properly hugged.

Sure there were those awkward, congratulatory pats on the back and half-hugs you always felt uncertain about, but this... there was nothing uncertain about this. This joy that filled both him and Harry alike was so strong and so big that it transcended them both and they could do nothing else but share it by hugging each other.

He pulled back, feeling his face heating up. "That's amazing news," he only murmured, cleared his throat and turned away from Harry and Charlie - he didn't want to catch either of their looks just in case they thought the hug was a bit unusual.

"Well, there's always some good news on a sad day," Harry said and sighed and once again left Draco in confusion.

"A sad day? What happened?", he asked, not caring about the hug anymore because if something seriously bad had happened, any embarrassment could be dealt with to ensure that Harry was not hurting because of it. That reasoning of Draco's perhaps wasn't the smartest but it was true so he stuck with it.

"Nothing yet," Harry finally said after a moment of tense silence. "It's yet to happen."

Draco shook his head expectantly, staring at Harry, waiting for him to speak but when Harry only shrugged, he huffed and turned away again, throwing his arms into the air, quite dramatically. "Can you just tell me what is going to happen that's making it a sad day so I can try and fix it already?!"

Charlie chuckled then and Draco flipped him off which only made Charlie laugh louder. When he calmed down and Draco's annoyance was very close to its peak, Charlie finally answered Draco's question.

"I'm leaving tonight so you can't really fix it but it's putting Harry in a special sort of mood, I guess," he said and even though his voice was low and serious there was still a smile playing on his lips and Harry shoved him playfully so Draco allowed himself to calm down, finally convinced that it wasn't anything particularly serious that was bothering Harry.

"That's it?" Draco asked, his shoulders slumping in disbelief, too dramatic for any scenario and especially in this one where his dramatics popped off of the soft, sleepy background of the pastel green meadow. Charlie nodded then and Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes which made him look much older with all the forced wrinkles on his forehead. Harry snickered and Draco looked up, a determined look on his face.

"Harry, look at me," he said sharply and surely, his hands fixating themselves on Harry's shoulders as he held him at arm's length and stared directly into his eyes. "Charlie is not going to die. He's just leaving to get back to his job, to his company, to his friends. We're not going to mourn him, okay?"

"But he's leaving us and it's been so much fun the last three days", Harry reasoned, playing along although glancing towards a grinning Charlie made him crack up almost every couple of seconds.

"You would feel the same if you had decided to join us," he added too and Draco sighed, half of his lungs being exhaled by the sound of it.

"Harry, we can't keep people here against their will. Charlie wants to go - he has other people and creatures who need him." Draco let go of Harry's shoulders and was now pacing around his two friends. "And besides, keeping people here is illegal, rude and most importantly, unprofessional."

"Ditching an important law enforcement job in favour of taking care of a dragon is unprofessional...", Harry shrugged and smirked when Draco almost burst out laughing. Charlie didn't restrain himself - one look at Draco's fake seriousness and Harry's supposed concern brought out his best laughter which carried down the meadow.

"But that is simply untrue if one is a magical creature merchant," Draco stated pointing at Harry with one of his fingers to emphasize his point.

"Draco... You do know I'm not actually a merchant, right?" Harry now furrowed his eyebrows and what seemed to be a layer of real concern covered his expression.

"Well, for as long as you stay here, you're nothing less and nothing more," Draco said with a shrug and after a second of complete stillness, all three of them finally laughed until their sides hurt and their faces were stuck in flushing, grinning expressions.

**~o~**

The silence in the kitchen wasn't silence at all but a mixing rhythm of a knife hitting a wooden chopping board as Harry cut onions, the sizzling of oil and tomatoes on medium heat and the bubbling of pasta water on the farthest rink. There was a soft whistle appearing and disappearing from time to time as Draco started whistling every time he needed to stir either the pasta in the pot or the vegetables slowly cooking in the saucepan.

They cooked in a coordinated dance of movements and when Draco stepped to his left to let Harry add more onions to the sauce, Harry scraped the cutting board with his knife and sighed after all the pieces were safely in the pan. The cutting board was left on the counter and Harry grabbed Draco's wrist to get his attention. Their eyes met.

"Come on now," Harry said, carefully and slowly, doing his best not to sound aggressive or demanding, but rather the opposite. "Spill the beans."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his wand, summoning a can of beans from their cupboard. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Not those beans! The beans as in explanations," he threw his hands into the air dramatically like Draco often did during their evening conversations. "For your careful avoidance of both me and Charlie during the past three days."

Draco just stared at him for a moment, his face unreadable, before his voice came out breathy as it always did when he didn't bother to lie properly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"So you're saying that you didn't spend the majority of your time away from the house?" Harry raised an eyebrow at him and that seemed to amuse Draco if his amusement could be judged by the small smirk that formed on his lips.

"I had letters to send and things to do", he answered with a small shrug and then turned to the stove. He grabbed a spoon from the drawer to his left and after scooping some of the sauce, he turned and held the spoon up at the level of Harry's mouth. "Try this."

Harry begrudgingly tried the sauce and Draco could see by the slightest twitch of his furrowed brows that he enjoyed the taste no matter how hard he tried to be strict and indifferent to him at the moment.

"Add some salt," Harry said after another half a spoonful and then when the spoon was discarded and the salt was added, his strict Auror-ness was back on his face and his voice lowered just a tiny bit.

"And just to clarify," he started with a strong beginning, "which things could be more important than seeing Salus fly again? Seriously Draco, you haven't stayed away from her for more than an hour since I got here and suddenly you just... stop checking up on her? I don't know... seems sketchy to me..."

"I've just been busy," Draco huffed with a roll of his eyes. He was turned away from Harry and both of them were completely aware that the only thing keeping them away from the truth was eye contact. "And I knew she was in capable hands anyway. Now leave me to stir - conversation takes away focus from making a magnificent meal."

There were two possible choices Harry could make. He could do what Draco wished him to do and ignore his behaviour during the past three days, which was an easier option. Or he could walk towards Draco, slap his side so he would move and then turn off the stove, which was exactly what Harry did.

After that, all of his actions flew as natural as a river flows towards the sea and he didn't even need to think about taking Draco's hand and pulling him towards the living room before he was doing it. He pushed him onto the couch and swished his wand so two glasses and a half-empty bottle from a couple of days ago would come flying their way.

When both of them had their wine and their cushions comfortable on their sides of the couch, Harry pushed his sneakers off and curled up in the right corner, opposite of Draco's stiff, annoyed figure.

"Talk to me," Harry said in the softest of voices, the one he only let shine through when all the masks were stripped and his soul was displayed for the moonlight to shine on.

Draco twirled his wine in his glass and sighed, letting his head fall back and finally allowing Harry to catch his eyes. "It's barely six."

"Then pretend it's ten."

"That's not how time works," Draco chuckled and he could already see a relaxed grin forming on Harry's face.

"Nothing is real anyway." Harry took a sip of his wine and mirrored Draco's position with his head dropped onto the backrest. "It can work however we want it to work. Now tell me what the hell was wrong with you when Charlie was over. Did you two have a row or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Draco denied quickly, and Harry saw the truth behind his hurried words. "We're on great terms."

"Is it me then?", Harry asked after a moment of consideration. "Did I do something wrong?"

"For Circe's sake Harry, no!" It was said through a laugh and Draco looked at him in a way that only appeared when Harry said something particularly stupid. "No one did nothing wrong, both of you are great friends to me."

"Then why did you avoid us? You and I are friends, you and Charlie are friends, and Charlie and I are friends, too. All of us are great friends and friends hang out, don't they?" Harry realised he probably sounded desperate and pushing with his questions but it wasn't until Draco stopped being near him 24/7 that he realised how much he'd grown accustomed to him being around and sharing his space. He'd missed Draco and no matter how embarrassing it was to admit, he wanted to know how to keep him around.

"What you're saying is true," Draco nodded and downed his wine before continuing. "But my friendship with Charlie is completely different than my friendship with you and mixing different friendships is messy even without other factors."

Harry frowned at that and even though it wasn't a conscious decision, he leaned closer to his friend on the other side of the couch. "What other factors, Draco?"

The question hung in the air suspended by the clonk of the bottle against the glass and the sound of wine being drunk. Draco sighed, turned away and waited, begging the air and the wine that Harry would say he didn't want to know after all. It was six o'clock and that was nowhere near their 'uncomfortably-honest-confessions' time. Draco feared that his words simply wouldn’t fall so seamlessly into space between them now that the sun still shone. All the words appeared more appropriate in the darkness of the night.

"Charlie stayed for three days," he finally said, giving himself time to piece together his words and his thoughts alike. "He came, he helped, he left. Completely on his own, freely as a dragon. And you..."

"What about me?", Harry whispered into the air, the glass in his hand empty but it didn't bother him like it usually did.

"You came, you helped but you never left," Draco shrugged and glanced at Potter before fixating his eyes back on his glass. "And I feel like... oh, just forget it! It's stupid anyway!" His sudden words were followed by a quick sip of wine and a clank of a glass being put onto the coffee table.

"No, Draco, please tell me!", Harry begged, his body scooting closer so their thighs were touching. As his face flushed and his eyes turned desperate he took Draco's hand and intertwined their fingers, squeezing them in encouragement. Draco gasped inaudibly but didn't move or say anything that would make Harry return to his former position.

"Please... " Harry whispered again, so close that his breath curled in the crook of Draco's neck. Draco's shoulder slumped and suddenly he was open for the world to see - the tension moved and erased the lines of his forehead and the look he gave Harry was softer than the golden locks, now so messy on his head.

"I feel like I'm keeping you here," Draco murmured. There was a pang of jealousy twitching in his heart as he wished to have glasses too so he would have something, anything at all, to protect him from the gaze that Harry held between them at the moment. "Or maybe it's not really me who's keeping you, but rather some righteous purpose, some pity case, some stupid obligation you feel because you came, and now you can't leave this place, and by extension, Salus and I are keeping you from going back to your normal life."

He didn't care if it all sounded like gibberish or if nothing made sense at all, he didn't care that his words were hurried and jumbled up and anything but closely thought over. It was the raw vulnerability that mattered and he hoped that was enough.

Harry just looked at him and Draco could feel his grip on Harry's hands tighten. He was right in front of him - Harry Potter on whom he could always count but right now, he looked exactly as Draco did - confused and vulnerable, perhaps a touch terrified, but most importantly, completely and utterly honest. A small curve of a smile formed on Harry's face and his next words were as soothing as a healing salve to a sore spot.

"Draco," Harry whispered in a tone just barely louder than Draco's had been. "This is my normal life now."

"But what about the real world?", Draco contradicted quickly, his brows furrowing and his shoulders tensing once again. "What about your real obligations and duties you have to the DMLE? "

"Who's to say those duties are any more real than my duties towards this house and this meadow and this man sitting next to me?" Harry offered a shrug that seemed carefree but Draco could tell that saying what he was saying wasn't easy at all. Harry's thumbs were pressing circles into the skin of Draco's palm and before he continued speaking, Harry's gaze wandered towards the window and the outside world.

"If anything -", he said, meeting Draco's eyes again, "- this meadow and its fog are more real than anything at all since their beauty, and the beauty of my time spent here made me happier than anything I've ever experienced. If someone asked me what true reality was, my answer would always and undoubtedly be happiness."

"Oh, Harry...", Draco sighed, his voice wavering as he said his name. He pulled his hands out of Harry's and put his face into them. "Don't let the fog blur the cage of your prison..."

"You haven't imprisoned me, Draco", Harry said, laughing slightly because the situation had a mixture of ridiculousness in it so laughter could only clear the air. His hand found its way to Draco's shoulder and as Draco leaned into his touch it was a strange little comfort.  "The situation is the opposite, Draco. As I fell in love with this place, I kept you from leaving, and not the other way around."

"But I have nowhere to leave to," Draco laughed, bitterness lacing every word. "The only place that will be left for me once I leave this place is Azkaban, and the only thing that will keep me sane will be the fact that Charlie will take Salus to Belgium with him once we're gone.  You should just bring me in and be done with it!"

"You're always such a cynic!", Harry groaned but it wasn't a bad thing at all - cynical Draco was so much closer to the usual, happy, amused Draco than it seemed at the first glance. "Don't you see a bright future ahead of you?"

"No, not at all!", Draco exclaimed and threw his hands in the air. When they fell back into his lap, Harry dared to take them again into his own hands. Draco's eyes were fixed on their intertwined fingers, on the contrast between their skin folding over and under and through. He leaned into the cushions, letting his voice lower again. He was tired and it was such a clear thing in the slow movements of his body.

"I see a fool to blind to see that he's forced to stay away from his life and his loved ones," Draco finally murmured and Harry waited for him to finish before saying anything at all. "I see a dragon taken hostage by two fools to be sold for money. I see a desperate town striving for something better. And I see a pathetic loser who had the amazing idea to break the law one morning, every time I look into the mirror."

"I swear to everything divine there is that I will pour you more wine until your honest mind can admit to me that you don't actually regret keeping Salus," Harry responded and his heart skipped a beat when Draco grinned back at him.

"The only thing that this will result in is vomit stains on the carpet or a possible alcohol poisoning." It was a remark that came through with a smile and Harry felt warm knowing that Draco was at least able to smile now, that he was even a tiny bit better than before.

"Again with the negativity!" Harry frowned and shook his head, disapprovingly. "Can't you see the good side of this?"

"Isn't the answer obvious?" Draco snorted and there was something very comfortable in the smile he sent Harry's way just then. Draco's eyes fell closed and he let his breathing slow down.

"Draaacoooo!", Harry whined almost like a child and Draco chuckled, willing his eyes to open, to meet the brilliant green eyes of his best friend.

"What?"

"Just try and look for the positive aspects." Harry had that damn puppy face on and from an outsiders perspective that grimace might've been disgusting but to Draco... Harry's puppy face (and any other face of his, to be quite frank) made his stomach flutter.

"Perhaps I'm blind but please-,” he said, finally sighing in an overly dramatic, exasperated voice, "- almighty Golden Boy do tell me the truth you wish me to seek!“

“Words are overrated,” Harry replied with a grin and before Draco could blink, he was hauling him up to his feet, Draco's hand in his own. Their spirits were quicker than lightning as they ran through the living room and the hallway until the fresh air hit their faces and they were standing in the foggy outside world.

“Don’t close your eyes, don’t think of anything but this,” Harry whispered and lead him towards Salus until Draco was surrounded by the night. His eyes met Harry’s and for a moment, just before Draco reached to stroke Salus’ scales, he thought Harry might say something else, something that would shake his soul.

Harry, however, said nothing at all and instead let Draco feel the bubbling feeling of joy due to the small things around them. Draco fixed his eyes on his pale fingers gliding across the shimmering scales of their dragon. His skin was nearly glowing in the soft, still blooming moonlight. His ears were filled with Salus’ content purring and rustle of the wind through the grass. There was the gentle touch of Harry’s hand still in his own and the comfortable silence of the world around him.

“Want to go for a ride?”, Harry whispered into his ear and even though there were shivers running down Draco’s spine, he doubted it was because of the surprising question or the cold. Harry stood so close to him now and Draco had barely noticed his slight pull on Harry’s hand.

“Is it safe?”, he murmured back and Harry nodded with a reassuring smile that made Draco relax. He trusted that smile, that comforting squeeze on his hand, those warm eyes staring right back at him. He trusted Harry to help him, to be there when he needed someone to lean on and Harry was right here, doing the best thing he could – asking Draco for a ride.

Draco chuckled then and even though he didn’t know where the laughter came from, he embraced the tingly feeling in his chest as Harry laughed with him. It was like an elastic band finally flying from your finger after being pulled at for so long; Draco’s emotions apparently had enough of being locked up beneath Draco’s ribcage. That laughter was just the beginning and Draco felt some invisible weight he hadn’t even noticed before, getting lifted from his shoulders.

He and Harry walked around Salus and settled in the crook of her neck, holding onto her shoulders and each other. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, in the same manner, the muggle girls wrap theirs around their biker boyfriends. Harry didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he leaned back into Draco’s embrace, his back warm against Draco’s chest.

Salus moved then, lifting up to her feet and getting ready to fly. Harry took a moment to gently stroke Draco’s fingers with his thumb, another reassurance that sent Draco’s poor heart way over the normal speed. Harry glanced at him and he could feel his cheeks heat as if Harry knew exactly the way Draco felt at the moment as if he could recognise the level of the flustered mess Draco had become.

“Hold on tight,” Harry warned and winked at him and while Draco’s brain malfunctioned due to the mix of many different factors (most of which were connected to Harry), they rose into the air, leaving the ground way below them.

Draco tightened his grip around Harry’s waist. He leaned against his back and Potter leaned against Salus’ to avoid dizziness and unbalance until they reached a certain height. The air was cold and harsh against the skin of Draco’s neck, his ankles and his hands, but as the wind was pulling at him, he was grateful for the cool that was enveloping them.

He was flying then, piercing the air at medium speed, the ground so far below him. The sky above him was the deep indigo of early dusk; the ground below him was rolling in shades of shadowed emeralds. He was flying and his heartbeat was mixing with the heartbeat of the man he was holding onto. There was a breeze of a memory grazing against his mind. The memory was distant but it was one of those that kept him up at night ever so often even to this day. He shivered at the familiar feeling of Harry’s body under his grasp, rushing through the air, high above the ground, moving away.

Draco let his thoughts unwind though, taking the memory away into the uncomfortable corners of his mind. He closed his eyes and felt the cold air enter his lungs, felt the soft fabric of Harry’s shirt under his fingers move as they moved with the dragon. The air was cold and slowly the memory was repainted – the biting flames replaced by the graceful puffs of low clouds. The pace was slow and the panicked breathing was replaced by small huffs of satisfaction after an exciting leap and a glowing grin. The dragon was big and the uncertainty of tomorrow was replaced by a comfortable feeling of safety. Harry was here, just like he had been there with him on that tiny broom over twenty years ago – the feeling of helplessness and anger has long ago been replaced by gratitude and something bright and glowing that one might call fondness.

It was right then and there that Draco realised why he'd always loved flying – time worked differently in the air, it slowed down this high up. While you were flying, surrounded by magic, clouds and distant shadows of birds, nothing mattered but the moment you were living in. You noticed things that seemed so tiny and insignificant when there was ground beneath your feet. Small things that made Draco's brain all fluffy and his stomach so full of butterflies.

It was Harry leaning back against him, just slightly, when they gained the desired height. It was Salus slowing down, giving them time to enjoy the simplicity of flying. It was the quick smile Harry gave him before they prepared to fly back down.

They landed and time flooded back into Draco's blood – it seemed as if they had been gone for hours. The sky was now dark and speckled with stars, the grass was covered in dew, Salus was already crashing in her usual spot, her snores becoming louder every minute they stood there panting, catching their breath and catching their feelings.

That was the thing about flying – your emotions were flying too and the biggest trick was catching them in time when you land.

That proved to be a difficult task indeed, or perhaps Draco was just incompetent. Harry was standing near him, with his eyes closed and his face flushed. He was grinning and his hair looked messy but soft from the wind's touches. Draco felt giddy inside, laughter bubbling inside his chest, his whole being buzzing with happiness. He didn't doubt he was just as blushy as Harry was and his hair must have looked like a nest as well.

It was only when Harry opened his eyes, stars reflecting in his glasses, that Draco realised he'd been staring at this wonderful man for so long that it felt like entire universes have died and been reborn. Harry looked younger in the moonlight, and his grin looked eternal. There was something vulnerable in the delicate way Harry touched his fingers, something entirely human in the way their hands fit into each other.

Everything slowed. Draco wondered if perhaps they were in the air again as Harry drew closer, as he cupped his cheek, his fingers so warm against the cold skin of Draco’s face, as he whispered through soft, echoing laughter: “May I?”

All Draco had to do was nod and then Harry kissed him. His lips were soft and so slow that Draco felt like he’s stretching a moment into a thousand so he wouldn’t have to let go. They picked up a steady rhythm, soft huffs of air mixing with moans and chuckles as they walked towards the house, quite clumsily, their lips smiling more than kissing. It took too long to get inside but once Harry was near the kitchen island, it took him only seconds to press Draco against it and kiss him once more.

The kiss was slow and deep, comforting in ways that words would never be, simpler than anything they could say. Harry’s hand was buried deep in Draco’s golden hair, and the trace of Draco’s fingers along his spine made him shiver and kiss him harder. Draco pulled him closer until there was no space left between them and their hearts were again beating as one, as their breaths continued to mingle, Harry’s tongue teasing Draco’s lower lip. Draco moaned and Harry slipped his tongue into his mouth. The warmth was spreading all over Draco’s body, setting every inch of his being on fire as he longed for more of what he finally got a taste of – more skin, more moans, more Harry.

His scent was flooding his senses and he arched his back as Harry’s lips moved to the sensitive skin of his neck. His mind was shutting down, the only thing his name, like a prayer, whispered into the wind: “Harry... Oh, Harry!” And then it happened, seconds after love bites started blooming on his skin, a crash echoed through the small kitchen.

Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s and for a moment or two they hovered right there, quite soundless, simply feeling each other’s presence until they pulled away, the atmosphere falling from thick swirls of passion to the watered down scent of dusty evenings.

Draco turned away from Harry and took out his wand to clean the mess of the broken bowl of fruit they’d only bought a couple of days ago. The apples rolled off towards the living room and there were shards of white ceramic stuck in them. It was a simple clean up done with a swish and a half so when Draco turned back to proceed their newly found interest, there was a sharp pang in his chest as he saw Harry with furrowed eyebrows and a worried look.

“Do you think all of this is too fast?”, Harry whispered, nervously but his hand still found its way to Draco’s. Draco took a moment to consider it.

Kissing Harry was a dream of his for so long – ever since he realised he had his first wet dream at the age of fourteen just after the second Triwizard Tournament task. It’s been in his head for so long that subjectively all of this was happing too slow. But then he allowed himself to take a breath and see this from a clear point of view. From the perspective of a man who randomly stopped showing up for work because he decided that helping his ex-best friend take care of an illegal animal in a muggle town was a better deal than handling the paperwork and being someone famous every day. Before Salus, the silence between them was eight months long and in their circumstances that was like a lifetime of separation.

“We’re moving too fast,” Draco replied, finally with a nod. His face lost all its emotion and he was in his blank, formal state once more, pain surging through him as he saw disappointment flash across Harry’s features. It was too late to change his mind though and it was better for both of them if they don’t explore those potentially-damaging emotions any further, no matter how much either of them wished to proceed. For all they knew, the Aurors were on their way right now to arrest Draco for illegal activities and dump him into Azkaban for a good decade or two.

“Is this good night then?”, Harry asked and his fingers tightened against Draco’s. He was biting his lower lip, still frowning and Draco gave him a small smile, pulling away and taking a step back towards the stairs, but keeping their eyes locked.

“Have a good night, Harry,” he murmured and then turned away, hurried upstairs before his treacherous heart made him turn back and make all the wrong choices when it came to Harry Potter. But then again, he thought to himself once he fell into the comfortable safety of his bed, do I even know what’s right or wrong? Have I ever known the difference?

 


	5. Chapter 5

Draco was one of those people who seemed to think they had already got used to all the uncomfortable things life threw at them, and for a while, that turned out to be true. But then he found himself in a never-ending meadow constantly covered in fog, near a small, muggle town, with his ex-nemesis, his ex-best friend, his saviour, Harry Potter. The only problem was that Draco was now sitting in the kitchen of his summer house that was, until very recently, his safe space and one that he shared with Harry, and Harry wasn’t there.

Harry was nowhere to be found but judging by his recent habits he was in town again, drinking awful muggle beer or playing chess with one of the elders or doing anything that might keep him away from the house. And he was lucky Harry found his distraction...

They had kissed six days ago, on that stupid Wednesday and ever since Draco couldn’t stop thinking about it and Harry’s blatant refusal of discussing the topic only made it worse. Hours passed and days did too and Draco felt like his emotions were getting heavier and heavier in his mind and his chest and all over his skin.

The clock was ticking an uneven rhythm, not really moving because Draco couldn’t make himself to get up and change the batteries. There was a leaky faucet tapping away just under it too. The ticking was echoing and the sound of water droplets seemed louder than it was, the silence seemed more prominent and bright and the whole world seemed to be getting ready for a storm. The weather was getting better and more spring-like but the fog still clung tight to the grass and the humid air made Draco feel like choking whenever he went outside to feed Salus or take some kid for a flight.

Draco thought he had got used to the sounds of the house and the humidity of the air but from the moment he’d said goodnight to the man that wished to love him every tiny annoyance became enhanced in its sense. It felt like he was losing his mind, getting crazy over nothing because when he blinked, when he looked away and tried to focus everything was normal. And yet, nothing was.

As he moved towards the front door, the world really did seem to shift, to tilt only slightly so you can feel something is not as it should be but not so much that you can truly feel it. The silence followed him outside and the meadow was as still as a painting. Draco felt like a puppet thrown into a sloppily drawn paper scenery. The calm of the world was overwhelming. He remembered reading about tsunamis, about the quiet serenity that forwent them, about the quick, inescapable disaster that happened just as the quiet started seeming too good to be true.

This was his calm before his storm – there was a disaster right ahead of him and he had no idea how to prevent it.

The disaster came the next day in form of thick, red blood oozing from a cut on his finger. It was bad – his whole hand was pulsing with pain and the red was quickly covering his forearm. He was getting dizzy. It was all Potter’s fault, as it always seemed to be these days. He’d walked in, demanding to know when the food will be ready as if Draco was supposed to be his bloody housewife or a personal cook!

Harry was holding him now, and in a small moment of fear, Draco was grateful for his support. “Just calm down,” Harry murmured, conjuring long strips of bandage that twirled in the air. He started cleaning Draco’s hand.

“I’m fucking calm,” Draco growled through his teeth, although his head was still pounding and his vision was full of black dots.

“Don’t swear,” Harry said then, straightening Draco’s finger gently and starting to wrap the bandage around it.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to fucking do when I’m fucking bleeding all over the kitchen floor!” The pain turned hot instead of pulsing as Harry wrapped the bandage and Draco realised he preferred it – hot pain that was branching out through his nerves was something he was used to.

“I’m not telling you what to do, Draco,” Harry corrected him finally and pulled on the bandage just a bit harder than necessary. Draco swore and earned a glare. “I’m asking you to stop. I don’t like when you swear.”

“You never had a problem with it before,” Draco snorted, annoyance lacing his words, his eyebrows furrowed in pain and his finger feeling huge wrapped up. “ “I like that you swear so much; it shows just how much you don’t give a fuck about anyone.” Isn’t that what you said, Potter?”

Harry let Draco’s hand drop and his face turned cold, not changing even when Draco winced as his hand hit his thigh. “I guess I just thought you perhaps gave a fuck about me.”

“I did! I still do!”, Draco laughed desperately, his words breathy and weak. He took a step back and leaned against the kitchen island. “But what do you want me to do? Follow you around while you avoid both me and our dragon?”

“You said we were going too fast so this is me slowing down,” Harry argued and his hands curled into fists. “I don’t know what to do with you, Draco... I was your best friend and you left. I left you alone and you begged me to come back. I helped you and you refused to accept it as true. I kissed you and you pushed me away. I leave you alone again to clear your thoughts and now you’re here, angry at me?”

“How can I not be when you change your mind every two seconds! You like me when I swear but oh wait! It actually bothers you! You kiss me like I’m the air you need to breath, but oh no... you think we should go slow. You work for the fucking DMLE and yet you’re here, participating in a highly illegal activity alongside an ex-death eater.” Draco’s voice was cutting, cold and accusing as it had been back in the day when they still hated each others’ guts. He talked and talked watching as each word of his cut away a piece of Harry’s non-caring facade.

When he was finished, out of breath and panting, he just stared at Harry with a mad look in his eyes and pain surging through every nook and cranny of his body. Harry looked broken, inside and out and it caused a different kind of hurting to twirl around in Draco’s mind. One half of him wanted to apologise but the other half knew this was right, knew that all of it was true and that on top of it all, it was for the best.

He knew that beside all the ‘What if’s’ and ‘Maybe’s’, not sleeping with Harry that Wednesday had been the right choice. Because Harry might have been his best friend at one point and his nemesis at another but one thing stayed the same – Harry deserved someone better than him in every way. Harry deserved a better nemesis, a better friend, and at last, a better lover than Draco could ever be for him.

“I –“, Harry started and even at the very beginning his voice cracked. Draco begged the gods to stop the tears that must’ve been welling up inside Harry. “I told you time and time again that I enjoy being here and this changed my life and kissing you didn’t change that at all. I enjoy spending time with you and spending time with Salus and I can only imagine the things that are going through your head right now but I promise you: nothing that I’ve said and done while here was anything less than genuine.”

“I know,” Draco whispered and cursed his stupid heart for breaking over and over and over again as he stared at Harry’s pained expression.

“We keep moving in circles,” Harry sighed and pulled at his hair with a groan. He shifted, then leaned against the wall, opposite of where Draco was standing.

“Circles are perfection,” Draco shrugged and snorted but he didn’t feel perfect while repeating words and repeating fights, repeating all the thoughts he tried to convince himself were true.

“Not with us they aren’t.” Harry shook his head slowly. “I doubt they are with anyone.”

The silence stretched and the stench of onions, which Draco’d been chopping before almost cutting his finger off, hung in the air, heavy and nausea-inducing. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t know what to say so the silence stretched on.

“What do you want me to do, Draco?”, Harry asked, finally, his voice dry and desperate but low, so low. Draco just watched him shift from one leg to another and back, waiting for something that Draco couldn’t deliver.

“I want you to save yourself. Leave and turn me in, let the Aurors drag me to the place that’s been waiting for me. Don’t let the fog blind you, Harry – walk to freedom like you walk into town every day, leaving me behind.”

“Do you really think I could do that?” In the moment it took to ask this question, all hope slipped from Harry’s features. He looked miserable but Draco kept turning his reasons over in his head – it was for the best.

“I don’t know. But you should,” Draco answered and gave him a weak smile. He pushed himself off and walked towards the living room and the staircase in a weird sort of déjà vu. “I’ve been running from my destiny for years, Potter. Don’t be in the way when it finally catches up.”

**~o~**

Harry didn’t leave. The summer house remained the same and so did the distance between the two men that were living in it. The only constant feeling between them was the wish to leave this place that had grown so bitter and stale after their arguments and their silences and their stifled feelings.

Not three days after Draco’s blood spilt over the kitchen counter, Hermione came rushing through the front door, so early that the birds hadn’t yet woken up, with the fury in her eyes lighting up the whole summer house and waking up something similar to shame in both Draco and Harry. Her face was heated and her eyes stern, her hands pressed into fists and her voice edged with disappointment as she spoke to them through gritted teeth.

“Do you two have any idea what you’ve done to yourselves?!”, she yelled at their faces and both of them winced. “You’re here, sulking like two wet puppies who didn’t get their extra treat today while I’m working my ass off the entire of yesterday’s afternoon just to get you out of this mess.”

“Hermione, please, sit down,” Harry said slowly, motioning towards the chair while still keeping his distance. Angry Hermione was not someone you messed with and both of them were truly aware of her past furious actions towards both her friends and enemies and it was not pretty when she let herself go.

“Yes, please do,” Draco nodded in agreement and Harry glanced at him in slight surprise which shot a small pang of hurt through Draco’s stomach. Had Harry started to believe Draco wasn’t on his side anymore?

Hermione stared at them, her burning eyes moving slowly from Harry to Draco and back until there was a loud scrape of the chair against the floor and she was sitting down. The boys sat down as well, their hands in a similar position in their laps, looking shameful and ready for a good, half an hour scorn.

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest and took a deep breath. She started speaking in a calm voice but it had lost no coldness and it remained just as strict. “Tell me, whose idea was it not to use hiding and protection charms on the dragon?”

Draco glanced at Harry who’d gone red, and almost snorted but Hermione shot him a warning glance – this was no laughing matter.

“We just assumed it was an unnecessary usage of our energy and magic since Harry’d already told the muggles about Salus and we needed them to actually see her in order to sell the tickets,” Draco said with a shrug and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps the muggles knew about Salus, but the Ministry certainly didn’t. Well, at least not until yesterday when their precious, new, sparkling team of Magical Animal Control went on a rural checkup not expecting to find anything out of the ordinary when – guess this – they spot a dragon!” Hermione’s eyes went wide and she made a little, dramatic gasp of surprise at the end and the bitterness of her words left both Draco and Harry with no comments to add.

“You two have more luck than brains,” she continued, her face softening a bit, along with the bun that had become almost unrecognisable after what had to be hours of wearing it, made her look more like a concerned mother than the angry lawyer that she was trying to encompass at the moment. “The MAC team came back after most of the people had gone home so they decided to move the further procedures to the next day, which is today, by the way, so I had enough time to come up with a plan to save your guts.”

“You’re honestly the best person I know, Hermione,” Harry praised, leaning back in his chair, signs of deep relief all over his face.

“You haven't even heard the plan yet,” Draco noticed and snorted, now that the tension was a tiny bit lighter.

“And I already know it’s brilliant,” Harry shrugged and shot Hermione a smile on which she rolled her eyes.

“It’ll be worth less than the gossip the Daily Prophet prints if Charlie doesn’t show up in the next ten minutes. The MAC department opens at nine so you basically have less than three hours to learn your stories and make everything believable because I can bet you my position that they’ll appear on your doorstep as soon as their shift starts.”

“You haven’t told us our stories yet, though,” Draco urged her to explain but she shushed him.

“I will and Charlie will help me as soon as he gets here but first, I have a few questions for you both and if the answers to them are not what I expected, you can both say goodbye to the comfort of your freedom.” A shiver passed through all of them as they considered the worst outcome. The silence stretched on between them, all the sounds sharpening before a crack of apparition disturbed the tense atmosphere they’d found themselves in. Charlie walked into the kitchen.

“Are you done with the check-ups yet, ‘Mione?”, he asked, surprisingly cheerful, considering the circumstances.

“We haven’t even started,” she admitted with a worried furrow of her brows. “First: How much do you both know about Charlie’s SPEWED?”

“Enough to know it’s the best organisation to send Salus to when we inevitably end up rotting in Azkaban,” Draco said, sourly and caught Charlie’s proud eyes for a brief second. Hermione looked at Charlie who was now standing right by her side and he shrugged with a nod.

“Good enough,” she sighed and moved on, shifting her focus on Draco. “You speak French, right? And German?”

“I’m fluent in both,” Draco confirmed and Hermione nodded again, pleased.

“Harry, how ready are you to do the paperwork for about a year or so? Like, only paperwork?”, she asked already cringing. She knew very well that he wouldn’t like it but laying low was the best option she could think of...

“Seriously? What are these questions?” Harry looked at her confused. “You know damn well I would kill myself if I had to do that...”

“If you want to save your reputation and keep yourself out of court...”, her voice floated away as he considered that awful future. It was better than Azkaban but the desire to leave would most certainly become unbearable sooner rather than later. He looked at her with pleading eyes, nearly begging to find some other way but as she shrugged and shook his head he realised how whiny he’d sounded. He bet every single person sitting in that godforsaken prison would more than willingly accept paperwork over their sentence and he was here, trying to negotiate a solution to the mess he’d made without having a better idea himself... 

“Is that all?”, Draco asked and when Hermione said that it was he asked again what the plan was. She told them quickly but thoroughly in less than fifteen minutes. Draco was honestly impressed by the way her tongue managed to stay untangled despite the speed she was talking at.

“It’s all based on your story and the way it all went down,” she summarised, looking worryingly from Draco to Harry and then to Charlie who was smiling comfortingly at all of them.

“If you manage to convince them that the breaking of the Statue of Secrecy was accidental and that you couldn’t ask the Ministry for help because you were under the authority of someone else, it will work,” Hermione concluded. “You’ll have Charlie by your side throughout the whole thing but I can’t be here to fix your mistakes.”

“Why not?”, Harry asked but he knew already – Hermione’s known for her talent in loophole-finding. It was one of the reasons why she was such a damn good lawyer.

“If anyone saw me here, it would be clear as day that none of this is as we want them to think it is. The plan is simple and believable but only if they don’t doubt it,” she answered and said goodbye before she apparated away leaving them to practise for the most important interview of their lives.

The MAC arrived at 9:03 and the trio huddled close in the living room, running over their stories one last time, jumped up from their seats as soon as Salus’ roaring started piercing the air. There were three people, three men who had to be younger than Draco and Harry but due to their clean-cut indigo robes and their towering physic, they left a cold trail of respect that could grow into fear behind them.

Time seemed to change, moving quicker, in tense intervals that were hard to understand but everything still flowed exactly like they expected it would. The questions went exactly in the order they predicted and the answers ran smoothly.

 “How long have you been working for SPEWED, Mr Malfoy?”, asked Grimes, the leader of the MAC group that showed up to interrogate them. He was sitting in the middle and was the shortest of the three.

“Not longer than a couple of months,” Draco responded and when the two men on the left exchanged looks he corrected himself, or rather added more detail. “I started 3 and a half months ago.”

“And why aren’t you in Belgium then?” Suspicion was rising and Draco knew he mustn’t look away from the cold man in front of him – if he broke eye contact all of it was lost.

“I’m just an apprentice so I’m still learning to become as skilled as Charles. My job is to stay here and look for injured dragons or perhaps some dragons which ran away and take them to Belgium to get them healed.”

“So why haven’t you brought this one to Belgium as well? According to our records, you’ve been in this house for more than a month. Were you too lazy to move or have you thought you could just keep a dragon for yourself?” The man on the left had a deep voice that seemed to vibrate through the air as he spoke. He was dark like a shadow and he almost looked like he was blending in with the darkness of the poorly lit living room. Just looking at him shot a wave of unease down Draco’s spine.

“The dragon I found was in worse condition than anticipated and bigger than I’d ever worked with,” Draco explained slowly so he could avoid tripping over words but also quickly enough so it didn’t seem like he was faking it. “I called Charles as soon as I realised that the dragon couldn’t fly and couldn’t be apparated by a single man. He came over and we decided to nurse her back to health before transporting her to Belgium where Charles and his team of professionals could train her and release her back into the wild away from civilians.”

“I see...”, said Grimes, his tone slightly bitter. “And tell me, why does it say here that you worked in a Muggle bookstore. How could you work at two places at the same time?”

“It’s simple,” Draco shrugged and Harry coughed, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Care to say something, Mr Potter?”, Grimes’ colleague asked and Harry shook his head and glanced at Charlie who looked as carefree as ever. Easy for him... he wasn’t the one on the edge of imprisonment.

“Then wait for your turn,” Grimes said sternly and when his look pinned Harry in place, Harry felt like frozen. He was not looking forward to his turn but Draco’s stellar performance gave him some hope that everything would end up all right in the end.

“Please continue with your simple explanation, Mr Malfoy,” Grimes asked and Draco nodded and started talking again.

“SPEWED is a nonprofit organisation and a fairly new one, so you can imagine how big my pay is. The infamous Malfoy treasure has long since burned out and a man must live off of something. Choosing a muggle establishment to work in was only a matter of preference – I don’t enjoy all the attention my person still attracts and I’ve always been a bibliophile myself.”

“So, if I understood correctly, you’re broke so you work for muggles but you also work for a Belgian organisation that cares for dragons even though you have a degree in magical law and not magical creature care. And on top of that, you housed Harry Potter and dragged him into what might potentially be illegal while also exposing the muggle population to wizarding ways,” summarised Grimes’ shadow-man and in his voice, it really did sound incriminating. Although, their activities were really incriminating so perhaps that was why it sounded so bad... Still, they had to save their guts so it was Harry’s turn to step in.

“Actually, sir, Draco didn’t drag me into anything. It was my mistake,” he admitted and it was hard for Draco to hide his proud smile. Harry genuinely sounded ashamed and unaware that their actions might cause them to lose their freedom. He sounded scared and confused and if Draco didn’t know him, he wouldn't even doubt that Harry’s telling the truth.

“What do you mean by that, Mr Potter?”

“You see,” Harry started, leaning forward and tilting his head to the side as if reminiscing some old memory. “After years of working, the Ministry became tiring and especially the DMLE – that department is the worst if you ask me.”

“Careful, Mr Potter – you wouldn’t want such words spreading through the offices,” warned the man on the left. Harry couldn’t remember his name but he knew it was something that started with an L. Lorny, perhaps?

“Let them gossip and chatter – maybe it’ll make them more enthusiastic about coming to work.” Harry shrugged and sighed before continuing. “Anyway, I decided to take a couple of weeks off – just to unwind, you know. And since this place was a small paradise of its own I knew I had to spend my holiday in this idyllic scenery.”

“How did you know about this place if it’s in Mr Malfoy’s possession?”

“Draco and I are friends,” Harry answered quickly, genuinely confused. “I thought everyone knew – it’s been all over the news a couple of years back...”

An awkward silence stretched over the room and Grimes turned to Lorny with a mumbled comment. They glanced at their other colleague who Harry supposed was called Drewson and after a minute and a half, a new question was shot at Harry.

“Why haven’t you reported the dragon you saw when you came?” Grimes asked and his voice was rough and irritated as if he was annoyed by the amount of time it took to find a solid reason for just bringing them in and taking care of the dragon as their department was supposed to. Grimes was cracking his knuckles and the other two were observing their surrounding, looking bored and unprofessional. Despite the first impression the trio had made, it was now clear that they were not good in what they were asked to do that day. That made Harry wonder why they hadn't sent the MAC in to take away the dragon and asked some Auror to do the interrogation. Perhaps it was too much paperwork and perhaps it was departments being petty again, certain that they can handle all without anyone else getting involved.

 “I often volunteer for SPEWED since I’ve always liked dragons and had spent a summer in Belgium helping Mr Weasley there when he was still studying and working on other dragon-related projects.” It was semi-true since Harry had never been to Belgium but he had spent a summer abroad and he had helped a Mr Weasley, just not this particular one. It was enough for the lie to slip easily from Harry’s lips, though. “It seemed reasonable enough to offer help to Draco since we are both friends and free of other obligations. Charlie approved of this idea so we’ve been taking care of the dragon for almost a month now.”

“And when did you two plan to call SPEWED to take the dragon to their headquarters?”

“Somewhere by the end of this week – Salus can fly now so we thought it would be appropriate but then you showed up so we’re not certain when we’ll have the opportunity to take her to Belgium,” Harry explained and cringed when he said Salus’ name. They were meant to seem professional and not emotionally attached to the dragon because the emotional attachment was a weakness that always gave room to failed attempts at lying.

“That’s why Charles is here,” Draco stepped in quickly when Harry stopped talking. “We weren’t sure if we would have time to take care of the dragon with all the paperwork and everything that must be done now that SPEWED had finished its work here so Charles came to pick her up while we deal with this.”

“So SPEWED can’t take care of paperwork in Belgium? Is that what you’re saying, Mr Malfoy?”, Grimes asked, a smirk forming on his lips. “Or were you and Mr Potter worried you might not be present or, let’s say, free to fly the dragon out of the country?”

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t be free to do so, Mr Grimes since SPEWED is a completely legal, international organisation with the unrestricted right to work on the ground of the United Kingdom. We’ve done nothing wrong.” Harry’s words were rushed, and his voice was rising higher than it should have been. Draco put a hand on his shoulder, warning him to calm down quickly before everything turned around, away from their favour.

“No, certainly not,” Grimes chuckled coldly. “Except for that small thing called breaking the Statue of Secrecy. There are no muggle-repellant charms on this house nor on the dragon. You’ve been exposing muggles to magic for more than a month. That’s a crime.”

“Why haven’t you arrested me then?”

“Just as temperamental as they say you are, Mr Potter. I would calm down if I were you – we have no authority to have you arrested but don’t worry, everything will sort itself out in a fortunate way, I hope.”

“Fortune favours the bold,” Harry said with a sneer and Grimes chuckled.

“And what’s your bold move?”

“Pleading innocent. No magical ability or any secrets of our kind have been exposed to the muggle citizens. They think we’re magicians, tricksters, people with skilful fingers.” There was no tremor in Harry’s voice as he spoke and it gave him hope and pride.

“And the dragon? I’m sure not even the muggles are so gullible to believe it was a mere illusion...”

“We can alter their memories – not obliviate but switch their memory of the dragon with a memory of a lion or a tiger or even an elephant,” Harry suggested and Draco could feel him relax and get on track again.

“The Ministry has no time for such long procedures and you know better than anyone else what Mrs Granger has done to the Obliviators department – there is no one to fix your mistakes, Potter.” Grimes checked his watch and Harry’s heartbeat quickened. This was a bad conclusion and he didn’t know how to bring it back to where it stood before.

“What if I do it?”, he said quickly, standing up just as Grimes did too. “I’ll take the time and alter everyone’s memories, one by one, to apologise.”

“To apologise for breaking the law?”, Grimes asked, looking at him in disbelief. Lorny laughed next to him. “You should ask your friend how the law works, Potter.”

“It’s social service work and that is one of the punishments for breaking the Statue,” Harry replied, getting angry at their mocking. He knew what he was doing and even if the idea had originally been Hermione’s he was the one giving it to the people that needed to hear it.

Grimes looked him up and down, and rolled his eyes, turning towards the hallway and his exit. “Mr Weasley, you have three days to get the dragon back to SPEWED and return to discuss the terms of your employee’s work on the ground of this country. The Ministry hasn’t been informed of Mr Malfoy’s care for this dragon as a part of SPEWED and that will have consequences but if all the paperwork is in order and you haven’t lied about your role in the organisation, Malfoy, there probably will be no prison sentence.”

Draco nodded and thanked Grimes for his conclusion and as Grimes gathered his thoughts and turned to Harry, Draco caught Charlie’s eye and smiled at him gratefully, receiving a wink and a grin back.

“As for Mr Potter,” Grimes then continued. “Your actions were messier than anticipated and I can’t say anything with certainty. But don’t be afraid, you will hear from us soon enough.”

Harry didn’t say anything but “Goodbye”, and with that, the MAC was gone. The field was the same, the dragon was too. Nothing had changed in the living room or the kitchen or the town. But somehow, Draco and Harry felt cut from this world that had become their sanctuary. They felt foreign in this grass, in this air, in this space that had become their home.

“Now what?”, Harry asked, more to fill the silence, and to waste some time than to get an answer.

“Now we wait,” Draco said with a sigh. And so, they waited.

**~o~**

The answers to all their questions arrived with Hermione the same evening. It took nothing more than a satisfied grin on her face to lift all of their moods high up. She marched into the kitchen, head held high, the clicking of her heals matching the excited heartbeats of the three men waiting for news.

“If you ever do anything like that again, I’m not helping you,” she warned but it was all in a good manner; she was smiling and quickly brewing some tea for all of them with several practised flicks of her wand.

After the tea was served, steam slowly twirling through the air in front of them all, Draco, sitting on the edge of his chair, leaned closer to Hermione, his weight supported by his elbows. “So?”, he raised his eyebrows. “Are we going to end our days in Azkaban?”

“No, absolutely not,” Hermione answered, shaking her head. She took a sip of her tea, letting the anticipation stretch from one person at the table to another like melted cheese. “You two have more luck than the rest of Britain combined if I’m being honest here.”

“Just tell us our judgement already!”, Harry laughed and the rest of them joined in, letting the laughter take that weight off their shoulders, that layer of heavy thoughts that had been gathered on the edge of their mind ever since the MAC became something they had to worry about.

“Okay, the good news or the bad news first?”, Hermione asked and Harry caught Draco's eye before shrugging.

“Good news,” Draco said and they turned towards Hermione.

“None of you is going to prison and Charlie can keep his organisation safe and sound and continue working on British ground,” Hermione confirmed and all of them nodded, smiling in relief. “Also, SPEWED is going to get new reinforcements which is a good and a bad thing at the same time.”

“What do you mean?”, Charlie frowned. “Who did you bring into the mess?”

“No one new. And it wasn’t me but the MAC and the International relations office,” Hermione’s smile thinned and her shoulders stiffened and she cracked her knuckles. “Ready for the bad news? Well, Draco has to move to Belgium.”

“What now?” Draco looked at her in disbelief. He couldn’t just move to a different country, just like that! Could he? “Why”

“It all goes back to SPEWED not informing the MAC about their activities here. They are trying to show authority on their country’s ground so they’re sending all SPEWED staff currently stationed in Britain back to Belgium. And since you’re working for SPEWED you have to move,” Hermione explained and watched as Draco leaned back and closed his eyes. He stretched his arms out and then slumped his shoulders, crossing his arms on his chest.

“For how long?”

“They haven’t decided yet but at least a year. SPEWED will have two weeks to work on each separate assignment here but after that, they will have to move and continue their work in Belgium,” she continued. “I think it would be a good idea to lay low while you’re there, maybe avoid anything that has to do with the UK because this case could easily be reopened if they even start to believe there’s something wrong with the way it was handled.”

“Is there nothing we can do to keep him here?”, Harry asked in a low voice and Draco decided not to think too much of the reasoning behind the question. They were long past the point where they could allow themselves to think of each other in any manner that was on another level than mere friendship and now, with Draco moving, it didn’t help him at all to dwell on the things that could’ve been between them if he hadn't been such a coward. Still, his heart ached and his mind begged for some clue that Harry might still want him even after he blew away all of his chances.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione murmured and shook her head. “I can’t think of anything that has higher chances of success than this plan. And look at it on the bright side: a little change of scenery always helps.”

“I guess that’s true,” Draco agreed after a moment, feeling the acceptance of his faith grow inside his chest. He would move, meet new people, start anew and perhaps forget about all the what if’s that were haunting him here.

“And what about me? Am I off the hook too?”, Harry asked after a second of silence.

“Your situation is more complicated, but as I said, your luck always surprises me.” She sighed then. Her tea was getting cold and she drank the whole thing, the others following her movement. “They considered your offer about altering the muggles’ memories and the board agreed it would be a suitable option. You have until the end of the week to do it. But that’s not the end of it.”

“What else then? I have to do the paperwork for a year as you said?”

“That’s not too far off,” Hermione admitted with a sigh. “There were ideas about putting you back in the field where the chances of you being bored and doing something like this because of boredom were small but then there was also the risk of you dying and they just couldn’t take it. Also, they agreed that it would be kind of a reward and that’s not what they wanted after your behaviour. They decided to put you on paperwork, office work, everything as lowkey as possible so they can keep you in check for as long as you’re working. They also mentioned a quite big donation to the MAC apartment that would help your case...”

“So basically, I’m screwed?”, Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Pretty much.”

“And what if he quits?”, Draco suggested and it was Harry’s turn to be surprised. “I mean, I know working as an Auror is your dream but it will be torture once you go back.”

“I can’t just quit like that!” Harry threw his hands in the air but once the words were out of his mouth and the idea was attached to his thoughts, he couldn’t quite find a reason why that was true anymore.

“Well, I can’t just move to Belgium, but I will,” Draco said, shrugging. He flicked his wand, sending all the teacups into the sink just to fill the quiet moment with something other than their twirling thoughts.

“It’s not such a bad idea, Harry”, Charlie then said after only observing all this time. “You could even come and work for SPEWED if you like...”

“No, I –“ Harry started but sighed, trying to find the right words. Moving to Belgium was ridiculous especially with Draco doing the same. Hadn’t they agreed of letting go after everything was settled? Being something more than friends was impossible and they both knew it – Britain would never let them go. But what if, with moving away, they could move on without all the obstacles that were holding them back here?

“I can’t move to Belgium,” Harry said firmly. “I can’t quit my job. I can’t leave and change everything and do something that no one is expecting.”

“Why not?”, Draco asked and their eyes met. Harry could swear that they were closer now and his thoughts were turning into a buzz of mixed feelings. Belgium was a new start. It was a change of scenery, just as Hermione had said. So what if they did move away together? What if they continued taking care of dragons together? Maybe even live together? Would they be able to grow in a way that they couldn’t because of the stifling reality of their obligations here? Belgium had no obligation attached whatsoever...

Thoughts were mixing and bumping into each other in Harry’s mind and he didn’t even realise that he’d been staring into Draco’s eyes as if they were the last bits of hope he could find in the dark kitchen.

“I don’t know why not,” he said finally and turned away. He wished Draco hadn’t taken his cup away because now he didn’t know what to do with his hands as he stared at the grainy texture of the table. He didn’t meet anyone’s eye. “I just need time to think about everything, I guess.”

He asked if there was anything else they had to know.

“Nothing important,” Hermione shook her head and followed Charlie’s lead as they stood up. “We’ll check on you tomorrow. If you have any questions or doubts or ideas of how to make any of this better, just owl me, okay?”

Draco and Harry nodded. Charlie said that he’ll be back the day after tomorrow to take both Salus and Draco to Belgium and after that he and Hermione were gone, leaving the friends alone once more with more questions than ever.

They sat in silence for a while just staring at the dark world outside through the kitchen window. “Wine?”, Draco suggested after minutes of nothing at all.

“I would love to, Draco,” Harry said but instead of summoning the glasses, he stood up. “But as I said, I really need to think and you know how great my ideas are when I’m drunk.”

He wasn’t looking at Draco but rather somewhere to his right. He scratched the back of his neck and pointed at the stairs. “I’m gonna go and get some sleep. You should too.”

“You’re right,” Draco nodded with a sigh and watched as Harry climbed the stairs towards his bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” he called but either his voice was not loud enough or Harry was already too far because he received no answer but the heavy, deafening silence.

Draco woke up to an empty house the next morning with coffee brewed and eggs with bacon waiting for him under a Stasis charm. There was a quick note left on the counter saying that Harry’d gone to deal with the muggles and their memories. He’d be gone until lunch but hopefully it wouldn’t take longer than that. The broken clock on the wall showed six o'clock but the hands were not moving for more than a couple of clicks before they fell to their previous position and started their Sisyphus work again. A Tempus told him that it was just past nine.

He quickly made some toast and ate some of the eggs before going outside. He tried feeding Salus but she wasn’t hungry. He looked at her, dozing lazily without a care in the world. Her legs were curled by her sides, her wings were enveloping her and her calm body had never seemed so peaceful. Draco wished he was a dragon – he wished he didn’t know his faith.

He turned towards the house, thinking of going back inside, reading or writing, doing anything other than just standing there with no purpose but to wait for Charlie to come and take him away. And yet, the grass called to his body and he sat down, gliding his hands across Salus’ scales. Salus was meant to save them. That’s what he was hoping for when he named her Salvation but now, from this low angle, Draco didn’t feel saved at all.

He felt crushed to the ground, between what he was supposed to do and what he wished to do. The problem grew when he realised he didn’t know what he wished to do. He wanted to move to Belgium and start anew with no distractions and no prejudice that came with being a Malfoy. He wanted to go as far away from Potter as possible with the hope that his feelings would disappear and he would begin to accept the fact that they just aren’t meant to be.

But at the same time, he wanted to stay. He wanted to stay in this small house, on this meadow, with Harry in his arms and the rest of the world locked out, nearly non-existent. He wanted Harry to quit his job and follow him to Belgium and find a cottage just like this one where they can drink wine in the evenings and eat eggs and bacon in the morning.

He wanted to run away but he also didn’t want to leave at all.

Salus’ wing moved, enveloping him and he sighed in distress, leaning against her lean body, closing his eyes.  The sounds blurred into the air and everything became softer; he fell into sleep easier than he had for days.

That’s where Hermione found him an hour or two later when the sun was high over him and the morning dew was long gone. His eyes opened to meet her as she crouched next to him. She offered him a hand and he accepted, quickly getting to his feet.

“Tough night?”, she asked but he just smiled and shook his head.

“Any more news?”He walked half a step in front of her, holding the door open so she could get inside. Harry was yet to return and the kitchen looked exactly like Draco’d left it before falling asleep next to Salus.

“Nothing much,” she shrugged. “I’m here to talk to Harry. Is he around here somewhere?” She leaned to her right, peering into the living room and at the stairs but Draco shook his head once more.

“He’s in town, dealing with the whole memory mess,” Draco explained and while Hermione sat down on what was slowly becoming her usual chair, he walked to the sink and filled the teapot. He had just enough loose tea leaves for a teapot and he turned towards her. “Tea?”

“Sure. Do you know when he’s coming back? I really need to talk to him.”

“He said he’ll come back around noon,” Draco shrugged and turned on the stove. The slow procedure that came with making tea the muggle way grounded him when time seemed to fall through his fingers almost like sand. “Has he done something stupid again?”

“No. Well, not yet.” Hermione’s voice stayed high and hanging and from what Draco could see, she couldn’t decide whether or not she should tell him what’s going on. It hurt a bit because once upon a time all of Harry’s friends were his own and everyone knew that Harry’s secrets would be safe with Draco.

Now, with doubt about him growing in Harry and Hermione’s hesitation, he felt himself drifting from what he once thought a safe group of friends. Suddenly, as the water cooked and Hermione tried to make up her mind, he realised that Belgium was really his best option. It’s always a better idea to leave when there’s still a little bit of trust remaining than to leave after everything is crumbled and broken and close to being forgotten.

“He sent me a letter yesterday,” Hermione said at last and Draco turned his back away from her, busying himself with putting just the right amount of tea leaves into the boiling water. “He’s determined to quit his job as soon as possible.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Draco commented and it was. Finally, Harry had the chance to put his life back together and live in his normal, safe routine. Deciding to throw everything away was ludicrous and definitely something they had to talk him out of.

“That’s what I think as well,” Hermione continued, sighing in a tired, defeated way with her shoulders slumping. “It would be smart if everything just settled down. He shouldn’t push his luck after managing to get out of a prison sentence so easily.”

Draco didn’t answer but he nodded, agreeing. The sound of water pouring filled the kitchen along with the scented steam of the freshly boiled tea. “Milk or sugar?”

“Milk,” Hermione replied and he added some to her cup as well as his own before bringing them to the table and sitting down.

“Did he tell you why he’s quitting?”, Draco asked, taking a sip of his tea and then cursing under his breath as he burned his tongue. “It can’t be just because of the paperwork... I mean, he is stubborn and it’s not his thing but he would’ve quit a long time ago if that was the case, wouldn't he?”

“He didn’t mention anything in particular but he’s been saying how boring everything is and how tiring keeping up this perfect image was becoming over the years.” Hermione flicked her wand over her cup to cool it down just a bit and then took a sip. “That’s why I didn’t really discourage him from just staying here for a month or two. I mean, it’s not like we couldn’t have persuaded him to stop fooling around and come back to work but I just thought that the distance might help. I guess I hoped that some time spent away from the city here with you might help him unwind.”

She paused for a second and then laughed into her cup. “How wrong I was, right?”

“I don’t think you were wrong, really,” Draco shrugged as he watched her drink the rest of her tea. “I think that you just forgot to take into account that Harry doesn’t really stop at a bite of something – he either goes all the way or he doesn’t go at all. I don’t think any of us can stop him from quitting...”

“Maybe you could?”, she suggested with pleading eyes. She fidgeted in her seat, playing with her empty cup before saying anything else. “He plans to move to Belgium with you. If you tell him it’s a bad idea, perhaps he will stay...”

“I doubt that,” Draco shook his head, with a sigh. “The only thing that would make him stay  and not follow me to Belgium would be me telling him that I don’t want him to go.”

Hermione waited for him to continue, watched as he shifted in his chair, as he busied his hands with turning the teacup around as if they were back in third-year Divination class. He didn’t say a word though and so she took a big breath and straightened before asking in a soft, flowing voice, “Will you tell him to stay?”

“I... I can’t,” Draco murmured and then met her eyes with a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry but I really can’t.”

It would be the cruellest thing to do. Pushing people away had always been something that Draco left as a last resort, something that was to be done only if the circumstances were of such damage to him and the other person that leaving was the best idea. Here, he wasn’t sure what the end result is supposed to be and his treacherous heart bled with the very thought of telling Harry he didn’t want him by his side.

Ever since Draco found out that he might get a new chance at life, his feelings had become a bitter mess of excitement and anxiety. Not only did he fear for himself but also for the friendships he’d grown over the years. It’s been a month since he let Harry back into his life and even though England felt like an impossible place to be with each other, Belgium felt like an entirely different story.

Draco knew that Harry quitting his job was a bad idea, something that could ruin Harry’s life but, he had learned long ago that behind every decision he made there was a tiny bit of Draco’s selfishness. Perhaps it was a bad thing but in this situation, he knew what pain would bloom in both his heart and Harry’s if he spat those awful words into Harry’s face.

He wanted happiness to fill Harry’s life and if Harry thought that leaving the Aurors might give him a chance to find it, Draco was the last person to talk him out of it.

On the other hand, however, there was that cold streak that had been growing in the space between Draco and Harry and Draco feared that it would ruin anything they tried to build together. He didn’t know whether Harry trusted him or even wanted him around anymore. Perhaps he just wanted a new start and Draco had nothing to do with him moving...

Nevertheless, Draco knew that even if he tried to persuade Harry to stay away from him and SPEWED and Belgium all together, the words would get stuck in his throat and some others would come out without any control. He didn’t know if he could even stand in front of Harry without saying something entirely irrational anymore because it seemed every conversation they had recently led them down a path their friendship never saw before.

Draco wished for the solitude they shared only a week ago, he wished for the comfort that enveloped them in their time together, he wished for a rewind button so he could go back and rewrite their past in a way that would lead Draco to Harry’s bedroom that night without a single objection on his lips.

The door opened suddenly, with a loud thud and Draco was dragged out of his thoughts. Seeing Harry was a blessing and a curse at the same time. He looked tired and worn down, ready to collapse on the couch and just listen to Draco’s rambling for hours on end like they used to do only days ago. But also, Harry’s eyes were shiny and there was a frown on his face, his furrowed eyebrows seemingly permanent in their place.

“Has it gone so bad?”, Draco asked, in a murmur that travelled across the room, still louder than he wanted it to be.

“I never want to do it again,” Harry replied and sat down in a chair next to Draco’s, his body unconsciously leaning towards the blond. For a moment, Draco debated if he should reach out and embrace him, take his weight onto his body and comfort him like he wanted to but before he could decide, Harry, let his head lay down on the table and closed his eyes with a groan.

“Do we have tea?”, he muttered and Hermione quickly summoned the teapot and a cup, giving Harry the hot, healing drink.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, she asked carefully, pulling her hair down and twisting strands of hair into small braids. She had time. They all did and Draco poured himself more tea as Harry lifted his head up and leaned against the back of his chair.

“Do I have to?”, he asked and Hermione shrugged.

“Do you want to?”, Draco asked then, raising his eyebrow and Harry shrugged in return.

“It was a right mess, I can tell you that,” he said and then downed his tea. “How about something stronger?”

“Well,” Draco started, standing up to get some whiskey they’ve been saving for a special occasion. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past month, it’s that everything is easier when you’re drunk.”

He caught Harry’s eye and for a moment they just looked at each other and Harry smiled at him. Draco shot him a quick smile back and then went on, pouring the whiskey. If the dragon couldn’t solve their problems, he thought to himself, perhaps alcohol could.

**~o~**

The silence in their summerhouse was never like this before. It used  to roam the acres of grass outside, cold, resisting, and gentle, a constant hum surrounding the meadow - soft and welcoming like sleep to the freezing. More recently, the silence moved inside and became humid, warm and intruding, a twisting pull at the sound - suffocating any words that may have formed in its absence. This morning, however, the silence was something entirely new, and as with all new things, it sent a wave of unease throughout the sleeping rooms of the summer house. Draco could feel the shift in the air as the overwhelming calm swallowed the house and the meadow around it. It wasn't hot nor cold, here or there but rather everywhere all at once. It was heavy, deafening silence that was hard to walk through and set his skin into a flame of goosebumps.

His footsteps echoed as he walked downstairs, the colourless air being broken by the scent of burning bacon mixed with freshly brewed coffee. Harry was awake and Draco realised the moment he stepped into the kitchen that all the tension once hanging between them was pushed towards the back of his head and all that was left was the eery shiver in his ribcage.

"Do you hear it?", he asked, as soon as he got into Harry's field of vision. His voice was thick and spiced with sleep but hard and stable. Harry turned off the stove, put the cooked bacon on the tray next to the eggs and they casted a silencing charm on the still hot, sizzling oil. And then, the silence took over, setting into every crack of the house in a matter of seconds. "Hear what?", Harry asked, confusion dawned in the furrow of his eyebrows but his voice was quieter, careful almost.

"Nothing," Draco said, his eyes catching Harry's. He felt like he was losing his marbles but he knew that Harry could feel the strangeness of that morning as well - the hairs on his arms were raised. "Absolute, frightening silence."

Draco cracked his knuckles and the sound of it spread through the room, their eyes following the movement of dust and sun across it. Draco had no appetite but took a piece of toast just for the sake of it. Harry winced at the crack of the first bite and Draco put it down, swallowing hard. He moved through the kitchen, towards Harry and the window he was standing next to, his back turned to the bright new day outside. Draco split the curtains, exposing the kitchen to cold light and there was no silence anymore, but a gasp and a series of stutters.

"Harry, please tell me I've gone blind...", Draco uttered under his breath but Harry was already pulling him outside. The silence rolled over the meadow. It was empty; the air, the grass, the house. Everything was empty except for two friends standing in the middle of it all, searching the land for the one thing that kept them grounded for longer than a month.

"She's gone," Draco whimpered, covering his mouth with his hand and leaning against the solid body next to him. " Salus is gone. Oh Merlin, Harry, she's gone... She's gone!"

He could feel it now – the bitter realisation growing inside his chest and moving upwards until his eyes were glossy with tears and his head full of buzzing panic. His vision was blurring and he could see that he was moving but his legs walked without command – left and right and then backwards, twisting and turning, trying to catch a glimpse of his dragon. And then… arms. And low whisper in his ear. And grass under his fingers. Tears streaming down his cheeks and a confusing mess of words spilling from his lips.

“We were so close, Harry,” he blabbered on, his words repeating over and over again. “So close, so close! A day and then it would have been all over and now she’s gone! She’s gone!”

Harry held him, one of his hands around Draco’s waist and another, holding his head on his shoulder, Harry’s fingers gently caressing through his blonde hair. “We’ll find her Draco,” he murmured, again and again, his voice soft like honey and gentler than Draco ever remembered hearing it. “I promise you that we’ll find her and everything will be okay. I’ll help you fix it, alright?”

Draco’s eyes were closed shut and he couldn’t quite tell if he was shaking or if Harry was rocking them back and forth – a mess of limbs and sobs and whispering, in cold, morning grass. He could feel the tide of his panic, of his fear, recede though and he nodded as Harry stopped talking.

“Say it to me,” Harry pleaded, and pulled Draco closer. His fingers twisted into Draco’s hair and he nudged his head away from his shoulder so their eyes would meet, bright and watery, but honest. “We’ll fix this and everything will be alright and everything will turn out okay and we will find a happy ending in Belgium, okay?”

Draco stared at him, his sobs disappearing but his cheeks were still wet and his eyes were red and he was frowning. “Oh Harry no, please, no.”

“What is it?” Harry felt worry overwhelm him and he pulled Draco back into a tight hug, so he wouldn’t risk Draco leaving without telling him what’s wrong.

“You mustn’t quit the Aurors, Harry”, Draco murmured into Harry’s neck and Harry shivered as Draco’s breath rolled against his skin. “It’s your dream. It’s your future. You must be an Auror.

“But what if I don’t want to be an Auror anymore? What if I quit already?”

“Please tell me you didn’t!” Draco pushed away from the embrace and he shot a look of disbelief in Harry’s way. “You’re an idiot if you did. It’s your dream!”

“It was my dream. But dreams change,” Harry was grinning, his head tilted and his voice soft. He shrugged, helplessly and Draco’s shoulders slumped from his surprised posture. Harry took his hand into his, more so to have something to hold rather than holding his hand. Harry played with his fingers, his eyes gliding down towards his own lap until he looked like a kid, about to ask if he could have a puppy. “What if my dream has changed? What if I found something that saved me? My salvation, so to speak.”

“I told you already! This place got you all messed up,” Draco laughed and pulled at Harry’s hand playfully. The mood was lighter despite the loss they both still felt, pungent in the air around them.

“Perhaps,” Harry chuckled and sighed. Draco was gently shaking his head with complete disappointment in Harry’s judgement but Harry gave him no time to complain further. “I mean, maybe I’ve gone completely mad, and I definitely won’t argue that I haven’t but like... This place saved me in more ways that one. It saved me from boredom, from routine, from misery... It helped me realise what makes me happy in life.”

“And what is that exactly?”, Draco’s voice rose in pitch as he asked.

“Don’t you know already?”

Draco thought he knew. He assumed he knew but it made him full of indecisiveness. He couldn’t really tell why he resisted his assumption that Harry fancied him but he just... couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t be together and he kept repeating it over and over inside his brain, but as time moved, it became less and less true. Perhaps it was because it’s been so long since he’d let himself love someone but perhaps it was just the fear that his feelings were nothing but a conclusion of such a big amount of time he spent with Harry. When you spend a month in the same house with a person, of course, you get attached. But what would happen when they lose their perfect, quiet meadow? Would his feelings disappear? Would Harry change his mind? He didn’t know and he feared that his hopes would be crushed.

So, he glanced at the house, its doors still open from the moment they ran outside, the wind curling in the empty hallways. His eyes met Harry’s and he said, stupidly, hoping Harry would say yes and make it all easier, “Dragons?”

“Draco...”, Harry shook his head and took his hand in his own again, intertwining their fingers together. The grass was tickling their ankles and the wind curled in their hair as they watched each other for what felt like hours.

Finally, Draco spoke, his voice carried by the wind, full of emotion. “I really don’t think you should move to Belgium, Harry.”

“Why not?”, Harry asked with a squeeze of his hand.

“I – “, Draco hesitated, for a moment, breaking eye contact and sighing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Draco,” Harry smiled at him, a big toothy grin that made Draco’s heart warm. “If anyone’s gonna get hurt, it’s gonna be you because I’m a dumbass who knows nothing about relationships,” Harry admitted and realised that saying that probably won’t persuade Draco into giving him a chance. He shrugged and shot him an apologetic look.

“You’re not a dumbass,” Draco contradicted and slapped his fingers. “Don’t say that again. And also! For your information, I don’t get hurt so easily.”

Harry was smiling at him, and his eyes were full of such adoration that not even Draco could deny that there was at least some fondness twirling in his heart. “Well, that’s nice to hear,” he replied and the way his words slipped out of his mouth, so tenderly, made Draco’s heart skip a beat.

“And why’s that?”, Draco asked, stubbornly, seemingly clueless. But he knew the answer. He felt like he knew all the answers he needed to know. And it was making him dizzy with something akin to acceptance. He felt his mind let go, and he was falling without control the moment he returned Harry’s grin.

“Can I show you?” Harry asked, and he was undeniably blushing even though his voice sounded confident. The grip on Draco’s hand was strong and permanent and Draco smirked, having decided to hold on to the last, tiny bit of control before jumping into whatever this meadow and this wind will bring him.

“I don’t know,” Draco shrugged and leaned closer. Harry bit his lip and his eyes were hooded. Draco could hear his breath hitch and then, just as Harry was about to cup his cheek, kiss him, Draco whispered, despite his crazy, fast heartbeat, “Can you?”

Harry groaned in frustration but Draco could see him suppress his smile. He half expected Harry to get up and walk away and leave him to lay in the grass, questioning his life choices, but Harry did no such thing. He stayed as close to Draco as they were, so close their noses were almost brushing against each other.

“Seriously?”, he muttered in a very exasperated tone and Draco just chuckled.

“Yes. Seriously,” he answered with a firm nod and then added, his feature softening, “Ask me properly.”

They were grinning at each other so hard that their faces started to ache but it didn’t matter. The only things that matter were the slight shake of Harry’s head as he tried to decide whether to satisfy Draco in his wishes or to just kiss him already, as well as the soft touch of Draco’s fingers, pressing circles into the back of Harry’s palm.

“My dear Draco,” Harry started, his voice slow and warm, dragging on and full of excitement. “May I perhaps, if it would please your heart and your mind, show you the act of my love?”

Draco's grin softened and his face flushed, his heartbeat was loud in his ears. He doubted he would be able to hear any more words if Harry kept talking but fortunately, he didn’t. He waited, patiently for Draco’s answer. The world seemed to stop as well, waiting for the final clock before the two souls would finally be saved in that foggy, mystical meadow. Draco took a deep breath and bit his lip before finally, finally, brushing his nose against Harry’s bringing them even closer than before. And as their lips drew closer in the faintest of touches, Draco whispered, his voice shaking as he spoke, “Yes.”

The world turned into a blur as they kiss, slow and hard, moaning against each other. Harry’s hands wrapped around Draco’s waist just as Draco’s tongue grazed against Harry’s lower lip. “Draco”, Harry groaned and pushed him down so they were laying in the grass on top of each other, kissing and kissing and kissing. It was long and breathless, as perfect as their souls were together. This time, they had no fear – they knew their lips fit together like puzzle pieces so when Draco nibbed at Harry’s lip, he opened his mouth without any hesitation, gasping and burring his hands in the soft, golden curls of Draco’s hair.

Draco melted into Harry as Harry’s hands delved under his sweater, seeking skin, sending shivers all over Draco’s body. They kissed open-mouthed, losing themselves in the beating of their hearts, the scent of each other filling their minds, the warmth from their bodies rising, spreading through the air.

Draco panted when they pulled away, their foreheads leaning against each other. And then there was again, Harry's blasted grin, now spread across his flushed face. His hand moved from Draco’s hair to his cheek and his thumb was caressing the soft, blushing skin. Draco smiled back and closed his eyes as Harry kissed him once more, starting with nothing but a peck, a feather-light kiss to Draco’s red lips and then a proper kiss that lasted longer, slowly building it up again.

Just as Draco let a low moan escape through, Harry pulled back, nuzzling his neck and pulling them back up, so they were sitting and hugging, so similar to before but different in a crucial, intimate, what felt like groundbreaking sort of way.

“How was that? Do you feel a bit calmer?” It was a stupid question and Draco chuckled when Harry met his eyes.

“Well, my heartbeat is a bit faster than usual but I’m pretty certain there are other reasons for that.” Harry nodded, still smiling and it felt like his face would turn this expression into a permanent thing.

“Can I move to Belgium now?”, he whispered and Draco pulled away, rubbing his eyes. His smile disappeared instantly and his shoulders tensed. Harry took his hand, trying to calm him.

“I don’t think either of us will be moving anywhere until we find Salus.”

“We will,” Harry said, his voice firm and sure, confident but gentle. He stood up and pulled Draco with him. “I promise we will get her back and we will all travel to Belgium together and it will all turn out good. We’ll start searching for her in a second.”

“Why not immediately?” Draco moved away from his embrace, turning away and pulling at his hair, his panic returning. Harry caught his hands, getting them out of his hair and holding them, gently and firmly, meeting Draco’s eyes.

“Because I want to kiss you once more before we get into this mess,” Harry murmured and he watched as Draco’s shoulders fell and he leaned forward. They kissed quickly, chastely, as a lover would  do after many years of love. Draco’s body shifted into Harry’s and he poured all his hopes into the soft touch Harry held for so long.

“We call Charlie first, okay?”, Harry asked when they break apart and Draco nodded quickly, his forehead creased in worry.

“And what if he doesn’t have her? Or even know how to find her?”, Draco asked, his eyes meeting Harry’s,  seeking answers. Harry brought his hand up, smoothing out the lines on Draco’s face and smiled softly, calmly at the beautiful person in front of him.

“Then we go into town and ask around. The muggles must have seen something strange if Salus flew over their houses,” Harry explained and Draco nodded again. He didn’t have any comments but he also felt like his twisted insides would spill through his lips if he opened them.

“And what if they didn’t?”, Draco continued, his mind vibrating with a strange sort of certainty that everything he’s been trying to build would disappear. But he knew, through the way that Harry’s hands held him close and the way Harry’s eyes searched his own, troubled ones and the way that Harry’s voice found just the right tone to calm him down, that things really are going to be alright no matter what happens.

“If we don’t find her on land,” Harry reasoned, with a small, encouraging smile, “we’ll find her in the air. You still have your old broom, right?”

“Yes but I haven’t flown in years!”

“Well, let’s hope we find Salus before then, yeah?” Harry chuckled but when Draco flinched at the thought he hugged him, whispering in his ear that it was nothing but a joke. “We’ll find her – please, let me take care of your worries.”

Draco didn’t reply. His throat was closing off in emotion and it felt like there wasn’t anything true enough, nothing honest enough, nothing that touched the reality enough to be said out loud. His heart was warm and bubbly and he pulled Harry by the back of his neck until their lips crashed together and Draco’s tongue was sliding against Harry’s in a quick moment of passion. They pulled apart before Harry’s brain could quite comprehend what had just happened but when his eyes found Draco’s he doesn’t mind at all. Draco was practically beaming at him and the grip on his hand was harder than ever.

“Want to call Charlie or shall I?”, Draco asked and Harry stared at him for a short moment before he shook his head and motioned for Draco to do as he pleased. Draco held out his hand towards the house and waited, his head high and his chest out, looking extremely proud for someone standing there like a coating rack. But then, in a matter of seconds, Draco’s phone was in his hand and Harry was certain he’d never seen something as adorable as Draco’s face at that moment. The pride and joy of managing his wandless magic, mixed with real surprise based on Draco’s feeling of incapability, mixed with traces of fear of being disappointed and the answers he would get not being the ones he was seeking.

Harry wanted to kiss him mad until he forgot all except pride and joy and happiness but he didn’t. Instead, he brought their hands to his lips and let his soul be filled with sunshine even on such a gloomy day, as his lips touched Draco’s skin and soft, pink petals bloomed on Draco’s cheeks.

“You ready?”, he asked when Draco finally caught his eye again. He sure wasn’t but he smiled comfortingly at Draco despite anxiety bubbling in his ribcage. Draco nodded and began scrolling through his contact list, his finger stopping at the very end. Weasley, Charlie

He pressed the call button and put it on speaker, letting it ring. With each second that passed, an acid feeling of nervousness rose and spread through their veins. The call ended itself by going to voicemail. Draco glanced at Harry but before he could get any comment he clicked the call button again and let the ringing continue.

This time, the air shifted. As they waited, the wind picked up and the silence transformed into some kind of pulsing creature that was moving towards them. Draco leaned into Harry’s touch, their bodies pressed close against one another, side by side, staring at the small screen. It’s been five rings and both of them were getting jittery. The silence was growing louder and the pulsing was giving Harry a headache.

There was a melody. Familiar but distant, probably a figment of Draco’s imagination but it was getting louder. It was getting closer. The call went to voicemail and he sighed, ready to give up but Harry took the phone, calling Charlie one more time.

The music was loud now and by the way, Harry was looking at him, it appeared as if Draco wasn’t imagining it at all. They turned towards the noise, towards the world behind their back and there, just as they turned, Salus landed into her comfortable, sleeping spot, completely safe and sound, unfazed even though her guardians almost died of worry.

Charlie jumped down from Salus’ back and answered his phone. “Good morning, you two,” he said into the phone and it echoed the live version. “You seemed to have made yourself comfortable...” He glanced at their joined hands and immediately Draco let go. But it wasn’t because of shame or regret or any of these cold, drowning reasons but rather because he was marching towards  Charlie full of hot, boiling fury.

“How dare you take Salus away without telling us?!”, he yelled and picked Charlie up by his collar. He was taller than Weasley but Harry doubted his sudden strength was entirely natural. Harry rushed towards them and pulled Draco away.

“I told you I would come and get her and you two were still brooding so I took her for a flight away from that bad environment,” Charlie explained casually, but Draco could see he was slightly shaken by the sudden attack.

“Sorry,” Draco murmured and Charlie shook his head quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have realised you would be worried. I should have at least left a note,” he smiled apologetically and Draco frowned at him.

“Once we move to Belgium you won’t have the right to just take her away, understood?”, Draco said firmly and Charlie nodded before frowning for a second.

“Wait...” he murmured. “We?”

That was when Draco blushed and sought Harry’s eyes. Potter grinned at him and took his hand, pulling him closer until they were half-hugging again. “I quit the Aurors,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ll be moving with Draco. Help you with SPEWED and all that.”

Charlie smirked smugly. “Is that so?”, he snorted and then his eyes passed from Draco to Harry and then to Salus before saying simply that his help will be appreciated and his stay be welcomed. “I’m gonna go and take a shower, okay? Leave you three be for a while...”

Harry nodded with a grateful smile.

“Don’t drown!”, Draco called back and Harry laughed with him when Charlie shot him the middle finger without even turning back. They stood there, leaning against each other for a moment until they were sure Charlie wasn’t coming back.

“See,” Harry uttered, pulling Draco closer and kissing his cheek. “I told you everything was going to turn out alright.”

Draco sighed and grinned, kissing Harry until they were both blushing. “There’s still a long way ahead of us.”

“Stop with the dramatics and enjoy this moment then,” Harry laughed and Draco shrugged before laughing. He pecked Harry’s lips once more and then they turned, in a weird sort of déjà vu towards Salus.

It was late morning and the fog had mostly lifted. The arms around them were strong and loyal, comforting and bearing promises of something new, something better. They stood outside for what felt like the entire day and watched as their Salvation slept, calmly and peacefully, her body moving only with her breaths.

They watched as the sun rose up and as the time passed, leading them closer towards the clear, sunny, still unexplored future. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all, so much, for reading. I hope you found it interesting and/or funny and that it'd made you smile at least once.


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